


Vietnam for Dummies

by renfield31



Category: Goosebumps (2015), Goosebumps - All Media Types
Genre: 1960s, Alternate Universe - Vietnam, Slappy gains empathy, War, decided to do something different
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2019-08-06 01:42:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 76,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16378988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renfield31/pseuds/renfield31
Summary: Set as if the events of the movie had happened in the 60s.  Stine brings Slappy back to let him know he's been drafted.  Slappy heads to Vietnam and gains empathy he never thought he was capable of.





	1. Uncle Sam Wants YOU, Slappy!

**Author's Note:**

> Just an idea that popped into my head because I wondered how Slappy would react if he had to face real devastation and tragedy. This will be set as if Goosebumps and the events of the movie took place in the 60s. So it's the movieverse but in the 60s if that makes sense (with a mention of Mary-Ellen the dummy from Bride of the Living Dummy as Slappy's ex). I'm gonna post just the first chapter and if you guys like it, I'll post more! I'm planning to integrate Vietnamese so if you have any reliable sources, PLEASE let me know or else I'm gonna just use Google Translate. Enjoy!!

Stine sat alone in his study staring at the letter. He'd have to let him out for this. You couldn't fuck with the government, even if your creation _had_ almost destroyed an entire town.  Stine couldn't help but chuckle to himself as he pictured trying to make that excuse.

"Excuse me, President Johnson, I'm sorry, but this man cannot go to war.  For one, he's a dummy and two, he almost destroyed an entire town with other monsters I created."

Of course, there was always the mentally ill excuse...no, Stine thought, shaking his head.  Slappy knew exactly what he was doing.

Stine got up and walked over to his bookshelf and sighed, pulling out the manuscript.  Sitting back down at his desk, he took the key and opened the book.  Suddenly a burst of magic light surged through the room, followed by familiar screaming.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

Slappy was hurled out of the book like a football and crashed against the wall, falling upside down.  Stine closed the book before any of the other monsters got out and looked at his creation, who let out a groan.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph, every time..."

"What do you mean 'every time'?  You haven't come out in six months."

"I mean put the damned book on the desk and I can _climb_ out.  Jesus." Stine watched as his dummy dusted himself off.  He looked up at Stine.

"So what am I here for today?  Hm?  Another beating because what I did was SO terrible?"

"It was and I've never beaten you, but...that's not why you're here."

"Oh?  Why then?  Let me guess.  'Be good, Slappy!  Okay, now back in the book'?"

Stine sighed and held up the letter and handed it to him.  "That's why."

Slappy read it. "is this real?"

Stine nodded.  Slappy shook his head, "I'm not going."

Stine snorted. "What, did you become a hippie in six months?"

Slappy raised his voice. "I didn't sign up to kill people!  Hurt, yes, kill no.  Especially not innocent kids!"

"What about all the innocent kids like Zach and Hannah?"

"They were...fuck you, you know that?"

"I'm just saying, what makes war so different from what you tried to do?"

"I wasn't trying to wage a war, you idiot.  I wasn't trying to ruin the economy and involve other countries in my bullshit.  _I wasn't sending young men to die!"_

"At least you admit it was bullshit."

"Ahh, screw you."

"Well, you're going."

"How??  I'm a fucking dummy!  How did I even get this??"

"You're technically an American male between 18 and 35, dummy or not."

"Well that's bullshit, no wonder everyone's going to Canada.  I'm going too!"

"No you're not.  You're going to war.  It'll be a perfect punishment for what you did."

"Punishment?  You mean like a child?"

"Yes, punishment.  Hell, maybe you'll gain some empathy for a change!"

Slappy snorted. "Empathy...empathy is for cowards."

"Hm.  Well I'm sure you'll feel very cowardly being shot at.  Get packed.  The bus leaves at 6:00 a.m. tomorrow."

Slappy groaned, "I gotta get up early now too?!"

Stine started to sing:

"We're in the army now.  
We're not behind a plow.  
We'll never get rich a-diggin' a ditch.  
We're in the army now!

"Ahhhh shut up!" as Stine laughed.

\---

Later, Slappy packed a green duffel bag in Hannah's room as Hannah looked on. "I'm gonna miss you, Slappy."

"No you're not," he didn't look up and kept packing.

"Yeah I will, you're like a brother to me...despite...what you did..."

Slappy looked up at her out of the corner of his eye and said nothing.  Hannah sighed.

"Slappy, is it _that_ hard to believe anyone cares about you?"

"Yes!  Because no one does!"

"...I do.  I know you don't believe me, but...I do.  I mean, you're basically my brother, I have to."

Slappy stopped packing. "Hannah, I'm gonna go over there, I'm gonna die and everyone's gonna sing 'ding dong, the witch is dead!' Well...sorcerer, I guess."

Hannah looked at him with a "really?" face. "Slappy, come on...whatever happened to that annoying ego and self-confidence of yours?"

"I'm being sent to war, Hannah!  That's enough to shatter any man's ego!"

Stine came in. "You all packed?"

"I need shaving cream..."

"You shave?  You're a dummy."

"Even dummies can't let facial hair on this gorgeous face!"

Stine rolled his eyes and got his dummy some shaving cream. "Slappy, do you...want to go back in the book?"

"What, you want me to draft-dodge now?"

"No, I...just thought you might want to say goodbye to the monsters..."

The dummy shook his head. "They don't know what war is.  They wouldn't understand."

Stine nodded warily. "What about..."

Slappy looked at him.

"...Mary-Ellen?"

Slappy shook his head smiling. "She's not my girl."

He sighed. "Fine...I'll wake you up at 4 tomorrow if you don't set an alarm.  I know you won't." He left and Hannah and Slappy looked at each other.

"Come here.." Slappy held out his arms and Hannah ran into him.  They both cried.  Hannah wiped her eyes with her sweater as Slappy cried into it.

"I'm scared, Hannah...for the first time in my life, I'm scared..."

"I know...I know..." she hugged him tightly. "Just PLEASE promise you'll write every day."

She felt the dummy nod into her sweater. "I'll write every minute." He smiled and Hannah laughed through tears and cupped his tearful face.  "You should...go to bed.  You have to be up early tomorrow..."

"I'll, um...later.  I wanna watch TV." Hannah stared at him quizzically as he wandered into the living room and turned on the TV to the news.  Images of a war-torn Southeast Asia reflected in his eyes as Walter Cronkite reported the latest death toll.  Hannah came and sat next to him and rested her head on his wooden shoulder.

"That's where I'm going..." he said numbly.

Later, Slappy fell asleep and Hannah tucked him in in a blanket lying against the couch.  Another restless sleep followed, but not for the usual reasons; instead of his usual nightmares, Slappy could feel bullets puncturing every facet of his wooden body.  He could hear men shouting, he could smell a hospital and feel himself being rushed through hallways on a gurney as florescent lights shone above him.

He woke up with a start panting in a cold sweat.  He walked into the kitchen and looked at the clock on the oven. 3:30 a.m.

"Close enough," he shrugged.  He got on a stool and reached into the cupboard and found some Wheaties and made himself a bowl of cereal and sat down at the island to eat it. As he ate, a small voice came from the entryway to the kitchen. "Slappy?"

He looked up with a start putting his spoon down. "Who is it?"

A tiny female doll in a white dress and blonde hair peeked out. "Mary-Ellen?  H...how did you get out?"

"Stine let me out to say goodbye to you..."

Slappy rolled his eyes. "Of course he did."

Mary-Ellen climbed up onto a chair at the bar top table across from Slappy.  "I heard you're gonna go fight..."

Slappy just stared at her.

"I'm gonna miss you..."

"Can everyone stop lying to me?  You don't give a shit about me, we were never together for that long, why do you care?"

"Because believe it or not, someone DOES care about you!  Me!"

He played with his cereal with his spoon. "Well I'm gonna die.  You won't have to look out for me anymore."

"Slappy..." she sighed.

"Mary-Ellen, you think we're hopelessly in love and we're NOT!  I don't give a fuck about you, I never did, so stop trying to make us happen so badly!"

Mary-Ellen sniffed. Slappy realized what he said and his eyes grew wide. "I'm sorry..." he tentatively hugged her as she cried into his shoulder.

"I just...don't know what I'll do if you die..."

Slappy stared off into the distance. "Me neither..." he said quietly.

He inhaled the scent of her plastic blonde hair, his eyes closed.  They separated. "Remember when we first met? You threw up onstage and bit Jillian's hand." She laughed that infectious laugh that Slappy loved so much, so much so that he joined in with her.

"And then we fought at that kid's birthday..."

Mary-Ellen looked down. "You didn't want me at first..."

He shook his head. "I wanted Jillian..I didn't think we were gonna..." he took a deep breath. "Work...and then I called you ugly."

"Oh yeah. Can't forget that."

They both laughed. Mary-Ellen looked at him and kissed him softly. "Goodbye, Slappy." She walked away.

 

"Wait."

She turned back around to face him.

"And then we were together and it was fine."

"Remember our first date?"

"I spilled wine on your dress."

They both laughed again. "That I regret. I liked that dress...it was beautiful. You still are."

Mary-Ellen shook her head. "What went wrong, Slappy? I was in the book too, you could've found me at any time."

"I know, I just...marriage wasn't for me. But...with this, I..."

He approached her and kissed her. "I WILL make you my bride this time when I come home..." They kissed a few more times. Softly at first, but then they started to make out. Slappy felt every emotion he thought was buried, that he thought he couldn't feel anymore. Time stopped as they stood in the kitchen kissing.

"I missed you..."

That was all she needed. She gently took his hands and led him into the guest room across from Hannah's room, looking at each other like lovestruck teenagers. Hannah heard the door across the hall close and smiled to herself; her brother was finally making the right decisions.

Fifteen minutes later, Slappy and Mary-Ellen lay together spooning when a light knock came on the door. Stine appeared, cracking the door open. "Ready?"

"Hm?  Oh...yeah..." he leaned over and kissed Mary-Ellen's rosy cheek, got his bag and they set out. Stine opened the book and Slappy gazed at the familiar blue light as Mary-Ellen was sucked into the book.

Blue light tinged the early morning sky as the bus bumped along the dirt road.  It had been an hour since he had said goodbye to Stine and Hannah.  Now he just stared out the window, petrified but not wanting to show it.  He thought about Stine.  He thought about Hannah.  He even thought about Mary-Ellen. And of course, he thought about six months ago.  How fast time flies, he thought. 


	2. Making Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 60s slang!!
> 
> Ball/rock n' roll = sex  
> Cool head = nice guy  
> Charlie = slang for the North Vietnamese Army during the war

Slappy could feel the stares of his fellow recruits on him as the bus trucked along and the sun began to rise.

“Hey I know you!" one sitting across from him said.

“No you don’t.” Slappy stared straight ahead.

“Yeah, you’re that dummy that almost destroyed that town in Delaware!” The soldier spoke with a slight Jersey accent. Upon hearing the word “dummy,” Slappy wanted to lunge at him, but his eyes were fixated on the gun of the staff sergeant that sat at the front of the bus.  

_What the fuck, why am I respecting authority?_ He thought.  Instead, he said, "how do you know that?"

"Was on Cronkite."

"I made Cronkite?!?  Oh, uh, I mean...yeah, of course it was."

"What was your name?  Slippy?  Sloppy?"

"Slappy," Slappy cringed.

The soldier laughed. "Hey, that was pretty far out what you did!"

"I...almost killed an entire town."

"Still, pretty badass!  But can you destroy an entire country?" he smirked.

"I think LBJ and Minh are doing that pretty well themselves.  They don't need my help."

"Oooooooooh, this guy's got a tongue!  Where ya from, Slaps?"

"Uh...a book."

"A book...?"

"Yeah, my papa's name is R.L. Stine.  Heard of him?"

"Nope!"

The soldier next to him, a big, tall, beefy African American, nodded. "I have.  Don't listen to Franklin, brother.  He gives all the new guys hell.  Name's Scooter!  From Charleston, South Carolina!" His Southern accent was heavy.

Slappy, strangely, was taking a liking to him.  He held out his hand. "Slappy!  From an unfinished manuscript!" The two men laughed.

Franklin kept going. "So Slappy, you got a broad?  I mean, do dummies ball?" Some of the men laugh.  Slappy rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I got a...well, it's complicated.  I guess we're on again, off again."

"Hey, that's the best kind!  The rock n' roll is much better," a soldier behind Slappy and Scooter said.  Slappy laughed.

"Damn right!"

"Name's Peter!" the soldier behind them extended his arm. "Peter Mazzarelli, Secaucus, New Jersey!"

"Good to meet you, brother," Slappy shook his hand.

The bus came to a stop outside of a small airfield.  A plane waited to take them halfway across the world.  Slappy peered out the window at it and took a deep breath; everything was becoming more real by the minute.  He wished he was still in Hannah's room chatting with her about The Beatles like they used to and listening to his records.  He even missed rolling his eyes when she gushed about how handsome John and Paul were.

The staff sergeant stood up and barked.  "Get your bags and get off now!  MOVE!"

They quickly got their stuff and made their way to the plane.  Slappy, Peter and Scooter stuck together--the two men and the dummy realized they were the only ones who knew that war meant you needed a buddy--and sat semi-together; Scooter and Slappy sat next to each other with Peter across the aisle.  The last man was just barely on board when the plane took off.  Slappy stared out the window at the ground below as Peter blabbed on about his Italian heritage.  He tried to be discreet, but a tear rolled down his cheek.  His mind was so polluted with thoughts about Stine, Hannah, Mary-Ellen, even the monsters.  Would he ever see them again?  Would they write him back?  Would they even care about whether he was alive after the destruction he caused?  His mind was racing a million miles a minute and eventually it caused him to fall asleep.

He woke up to darkness.  There was a dim light on overhead.  He looked out the window bleary-eyed and it was pitch-black.  _Water,_ he thought.  He could see lights in the distance.  He was just waking up when the staff sergeant's voice boomed out. "Welcome to Vietnam, candyasses!  It's 0400.  When we deboard this plane, you will get off, get on the bus and go straight to base and start your basic.  It's about a two-hour bus ride from Saigon to camp, so I hope you've pissed and taken your shits!"

The men groaned and rubbed their eyes.  The plane finally landed and Slappy, Scooter and Peter wearily trudged off the plane and took in their surroundings on their way to the bus.  

"Some Southeast Asian paradise..." Slappy murmured.  It wasn't paradise at all; even at night, it was desolate and dirty; the only thing remotely resembling paradise were the palm trees swaying in the humid early morning air.

"Why's it so damn hot here?" Peter whined.

"'S'humidity, Pete," Scooter said.

"Southeast Asia May special..." Slappy mused looking at the trees swaying, sweat already forming on the v-neck of his tan Army-issue t-shirt.

The sergeant perched himself in front of them. "What's the fucking holdup?  This ain't a tourist trip!  What are your names?"

"Uh...Private Peter Mazzarelli, sir..."

"Private Scooter Jackson, sir."

The sergeant stared daggers at Slappy. "And you?"

Slappy cleared his throat. "Uhm...Private, uh...Slappy, sir." _Why the fuck am I so nervous in front of an authority figure?  Why am I not using my power to rip this dick's ass in two right now?_ His brain yelled at him.  He was brought back to reality by the sergeant yelling at him.

"WE DON'T USE NICKNAMES IN THIS OUTFIT, PRIVATE!  WHAT.  IS.  YOUR.  NAME.  AND.  RANK????"

"That...IS my real name.  _Sir._ Private Slappy Stine."  Slappy felt some of his attitude come back and he didn't know if he was thankful for it or not.

"Look at this, it's the Three Fuckin' Stooges.  Get on the damned bus.  Hope you're ready.  Charlies don't give a shit what your nickname is."  They scrambled on and sat next to each other at the back.

"What crawled up his ass?" Slappy asked.

Scooter shrugged. "You in the Army, brother."

Two hours later, they arrived at a large, wide clearing surrounded by dense brush.  A few tents were set up and other troops were running drills.  The bus stopped and the sergeant stood up and faced them. "Get some breakfast and freshen up, maybe write a letter to your folks.  Mail comes at noon.  Drills begin at 1300."

"What's he mean by 1300?" Peter asked.

"Military time, man," Slappy informed him. "Everything goes up after 12.  13 is 1:00, 14 is 2, et cetera."

"Wow, egg head alert!"

Slappy chuckled and rolled his eyes.  _Am I...making friends?  Cool!_

The men lined up in the mess tent and were served what was apparently supposed to be scrambled eggs.  Not like he was used to fine dining, but Slappy stared at his tray in disgust.  _Three square meals a day, I'm in the Army now,_ he thought.  He accepted some hash browns and sat down with Scooter and Peter and some other men.

"This war is a drag so far, when do we start killing Commies??" an eccentric freckled soldier with red hair two men down from Slappy said with a crazed look on his face.  Slappy looked at him, raising an eyebrow.  The soldier stood up.

"Private Jerry O'Donnell, proud Irish bastard!  I joined up to kill some Commies!" A bunch of men cheered.  Slappy chuckled and shook his head.

Jerry moved over to Slappy, Scooter and Peter. "Can I sit with you guys?  Everyone else thinks I'm a clown."

"Sure, brother!" Scooter smiled.

Slappy's social skills were adjusting. "Where you from, Jer?"

"Boston!" Jerry smiled.

"Beantown boy, huh?" Peter said.

"Yessir, Southie born and raised!  Where you guys from?"

"South Carolina!"

"Jersey!"

"...A book."

Jerry laughed. "A book?"

Slappy internally closed his eyes, knowing he shot himself in the foot. "Yeah, uh...little tome by R.L. Stine called--"

"Goosebumps???"

Slappy's eyes widened. "Yeah...you've heard of it?"

"Who hasn't??  Those books are boss!  YOU'RE boss!  You made news in Boston for almost wrecking that place in Delaware, man!  You might as well be Jimmy Stewart in This Man's Army!"

Slappy nervously laughed and turned red.  "Excuse me..."

He left and went to his assigned tent.  Scooter was his roommate and he wasn't back yet, so Slappy got out the stationery he had been given by the Army.  Reclining on his cot, he started to write.

_May 25, 1969_

_Dear Papa, Hannah, everyone, hell even the monsters because God knows you're all reading this:_

_Well, I'm here.  Not much happening here so far.  I just had probably the shittiest breakfast I've ever had in my life.  The eggs looked like a werewolf's piss.  I guess we're gonna do drills later.  Humid as hell.  There's palm trees though so it's kinda like California.  I miss you all and I want to go home._

_Love, Slappy_

 

He stopped writing and sighed.  He folded it up and put in an Army-issue envelope.  When the call for mail came, he placed it in the mail carrier's bag and smiled.

1:00 came and the reveille sounded.  The men came rushing to the middle of camp.

"Atten-TION!" another sergeant called out.  Slappy fell in line with the rest of the soldiers with baited breath, wondering why he was so nervous.  The sergeant from the bus stepped in front of them.  "Welcome to Vietnam!  I'm sure you're all excited to kill some Charlies.  Well, you're in luck!  We're right in the thick of the fighting.  But you can't kill anyone without proper training.  Starting today, you'll undergo rigorous training and THEN, if you're lucky, you'll get to kill some Commies.  All the booze and broads are two hours away, so nothing will distract you here.  Now fall in and we'll start."

Over the course of the next few days, Slappy was at his wit's end.  Not mentally, but physically.  From the moment the reveille sounded at 4 a.m. till around dinner, he was jumping through tires, climbing walls and shooting targets.  He was pleasantly surprised; his weapon of choice was usually a knife, but he turned out to be a talented marksman, even without using his powers.  Speaking of his powers, he was shocked he was getting through basic not even using them once.  Maybe he may have cheated and levitated some bread over to him when no one was looking, but other than that, he was resisting temptation, so much so that he could disassemble and put together a gun just as slow as the other men.

He noticed something else; he was getting bigger.  He didn't think dummies could get muscles, but all the physical training was strengthening him.  He felt better, more whole and the soreness of a long day of training started to feel good after a while.  He was starting to grow facial hair too. 

He was bonding more and more with not only the soldiers in his unit, but his superiors as well.  One day, it was a rainy monsoon morning and the men were stretched out sitting against a tent holding their guns out with both hands.  Their arms started to hurt after a while and they winced in pain.  The superiors egged them on.  One of the lieutenants noticed Slappy.  "You!  What's your name and rank?"

"Private Slappy Stine, sir!"

"What's the matter, they didn't have enough dummies in the Navy?"

"I joined up to fight a war, sir, not to get laid!  And yes sir, there were too many stupid people in the Navy." This caused everyone including Slappy to laugh.

At night, the guys would all gather in Slappy's and Scooter's tent.  Even though they had to be up early in the morning, they would stay up till the early hours talking and swapping stories of sex and women.  Each man got grilled on his woman back home and Slappy enjoyed it.  Until the night it was his turn.

"So Slappy, you said you had a girl..."

"Ehh well...she's...ummm..."

"She's your woman you rock n' roll with, we get it."

"Is she human?" "Doug!"

"Nahh, she's a doll.  Literally and figuratively."

The men looked at each other.  "Got a picture of her?"

"Uhhhh, I think so..." he looks in his bag and pulls out a picture of Mary-Ellen.

"Hey, she's kinda cute!"

"So...how does doll and dummy balling work?"

"I don't know.  Same way human balling works?"

"So you ain't gonna wife her?  If you just rock n' roll with her..."

"Well I...DO care about her.  I don't know about love but...I wanna marry her when I get home."

"How can you marry her if you don't love her?"

"I didn't say I DON'T love her."

"Hmmm...well, while you're figuring it out, this'll tide you over..." Doug reaches behind him and pulls out pinup pictures.  All the guys including Slappy get excited and gather around. "Take your pick, boys!"

_May 30, 1969_

_Dear everyone,_

_We haven't killed anyone yet, but they're working us hard.  We've been training ever since we got here, climbing over shit, shooting targets, tires...like in the pictures.  I'm getting pretty big now; you won't even recognize me when I get home!  And I'm doing most everything without my powers.  I didn't think I'd be able to, but I am! They call me a dummy all the time but I can't really get offended because I get why they do it now._

_There are some real cool heads in my unit.  One guy, Jerry, is from Boston and a huge Sox fan.  Another guy Scooter is from the South and honestly, when I get home, I might not even come home first cause I gotta go to Charleston and try some of that Southern cooking he's always raving about!_

_Sarge says the Commies are moving closer.  We might see combat soon so tomorrow we're gonna do patrols.  Kinda nervous about that but Sarge says I do good with the guns._

_This stuff is getting easier but I'm still scared as hell.  Hope you're all thinking of me._

_Slaps_

_P.S. Mary-Ellen, the guys in my unit gave me a pinup of naked Marilyn Monroe and you know she's my favorite.  I hung it up on the wall of my tent next to your picture.  You don't mind, right?  Papa, you know how it is, I'm sure._


	3. Patrols

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aussie slang (from an American lmao):
> 
> Drongo = fool
> 
> bloody oath = it's true
> 
> bogan = someone acting weird (also an Aussie redneck)
> 
> WARNING: RACISM. I have censored the racist term but PLEASE know this is only part of the writing and a reflection of the time period and NOT my personal views AT ALL.

Although he felt physically better and his morale was up, Slappy's restless sleep continued. He was just taking a bullet from a North Vietnamese soldier and finally getting to bed at 3 a.m. when the reveille sounded at 4. He woke up with a start and looked around bleary-eyed at everyone else stirring groggily and moaning. He remembered, and everyone else did too, what today was.

Patrols.

Slappy was too tired to be nervous. He was just annoyed that he had to get up this early. He got up and made his bed slowly and dressed with the men into his tank top and bulletproof camo vest. Outside, the sergeant from the bus (who had finally introduced himself as Sergeant Morris) briefed them quickly and had them sit at the ammunition table to assemble their guns. Slappy was getting better and quicker at assembling his gun and in 30 seconds, he grinned and moved the magazine of his machine gun back and forth. Scooter raised his eyebrows.

“Damn, brother,” was all he said. "You sure you ain't usin' them powers they say you got?"

Slappy laughed. "Nope! All by myself!"

"Okay, cause my great-great-grandma was a voodoo priestess in New Orleans so when Cronkite said you had powers, I knew exactly what he was talking about." He pronounced New Orleans like _Nawlins._

Slappy laughed. "Your great-great-grandma knew voodoo, yeah right."

"It's true, man!  She knew Marie Laveau!"

"Who?"

"That crazy voodoo priestess in New Orleans back in the 1800s."

"Yeah, sure." Slappy rolled his eyes.  Scooter laughed and put his arm around Slappy.

"You all right, brother, you know?"

Slappy smiled. "Thanks, man.  You're a pretty cool head too."

They smiled at each other and finished assembling guns.  The men helped each other apply black camo face paint, each not saying a word, mentally preparing for what lay ahead.  

Finally, it was time to head out.  The men shouldered their guns and set out into the jungle in a single-file line.  The sun was just barely beginning to rise.  As they walked, Slappy wondered what Hannah was doing right now.  Probably on a date with Zach or at school, depending on what time it was in America.  What time was it here?  What _day_ was it here?  Slappy just realized he had lost track of time.  All he knew was that it was June.  Slappy wondered if the sorcerer's soul was already choosing another victim.  He wondered if he got a say in who that would be, because he'd pick Jerry; if the soul retained Slappy's luck with the ladies, the kid needed help and badly.  _Just help him get laid for me, okay?_ It was odd, but he felt the soul chuckle and nod inside him.

For the first time in his life, Slappy was glad he was a dummy and didn't have to worry about breathing too much because he couldn't; he was too paralyzed by fear.  Sergeant Morris had warned them:  one false move and they were dead. 

"Watch out for land mines, boys..." they heard Sergeant Morris whisper.

 _L...land mines?!  Fuck...,_ Slappy thought as he kept his eyes glued firmly on his feet.  _Papa's at home probably writing about how people are gonna try and kill me next and I'm on the other side of the world doing it for him._ Slappy figured that's what Stine was doing because he certainly wasn't spending 24/7 in a synagogue praying for him.  In fact, Slappy figured, probably the only person losing any sleep over him was Mary-Ellen and maybe Hannah.  But Mary-Ellen was probably bawling her eyes out in contrast to Hannah, who was probably only shedding a few tears.

They reached a clearing and the sun started to rise over a few palm trees across the clearing.  Slappy had to smile; beauty could be found even in wartime, he thought.

Sergeant Morris stopped them in the middle of the clearing.  "All right, we're splitting up.  Find three men and go in different directions."

Slappy, Peter and Scooter nodded to each other and joined up.

"Which way do we go?"

Peter shrugged.  "Let's go into the trees.  I think it leads to the beach."

The three venture into the jungle, filled with the sounds of chirping bats and monkeys.  Slappy smiled again; it felt like a nature hike.  Now he knew what hippies were talking about when they talked about being one with nature because he certainly felt like he was now.  Hell, he'd stay here if it weren't so damn hot.  But they knew that removal of clothes meant detection by Charlies, so they kept their helmets and vests on.

Eventually, they made their way out of the jungle without any issues and found themselves on a dirt road.  They figured they didn't have to walk single file anymore, so they walked side by side and started talking.  Scooter enlightened them with tales of his mother's cooking.  A bit later, two topless Jeeps rolled up with five men in each.  The men in the first Jeep wore short-sleeved jade green fatigues, the other men wore the usual U.S. Army uniform.  One sitting on top of the back seat of the short-sleeved Jeep called out.

"Hey mates, it's some American blokes!"

"You've been driving next to some the entire time, ya limey!"

"Wrong country, yank!"

Peter laughed. "Where you all from?"

"Brisbane!"

"They got Aussies in this shindig too??" Slappy exclaimed.

"Yeah, no thanks to your pres, mate."

"Hey, I know this drongo.  He was on the news!"

 _Oh come on, in AUSTRALIA too????_ Slappy groaned internally.

"Wha' he do?"

"Tried to destroy an entire town!"

"You're a bogan, mate."

"Bloody oath, mate!  It was on the news!  That's Slappy!"

The Americans in the other Jeep start murmuring among themselves.  Scooter and Peter stepped in front of him to redirect the conversation, which made him breathe a sigh of relief. 

"Yo!  Anyone from Jersey?" Peter said.

"Yo!" Two soldiers raised their fists. "Mike and Larry Spumoni, Trenton's Finest Pizza Bros.!"

"Could use some pizza right now," Slappy said quietly.  Scooter nodded.

"What about you, little guy?  Where you from?"

Slappy looked up sweating. "Oh, it's...a small town.  You wouldn't know it."

"Come on, I know every place in America!"

Slappy knew he had no choice. He had to pick a place and fast. He finally blurted out, "Madison, Delaware."

"Madison, Delaware...?"

"Never heard of it."

"Wait, ain't that the town you tried to wipe out?"

Slappy nodded.

"So you...tried to destroy your own hometown."

Slappy nodded again.

"Do you see _anything_ wrong with this picture?"

"Hey why don't you leave him alone?" Scooter looked ready to fight.

"Ahhh, shut up, n*****," one of the Southern soldiers spat.

Scooter's and Peter's eyes widened, as well as the Australian soldiers', but Slappy lost it.  To stall his powers, who were begging to send the guy flying, he brushed through both of them. "What the fuck did you just say to my friend?"

The soldier's smile faded and he got out of the Jeep and walked up to Slappy, towering over him. "Your friend is a n***** and you'd do well to start hangin' 'round the right color."

"I'd do well to bash your damned face in, that's what I'd do well at."

"Oh yeah?  How?  You're only three feet tall!" He laughed.  With that, Slappy didn't care who noticed.  He narrowed his eyebrows and the soldier started to rise.

"Hey!  Hey!  Put me down!!  What the hell is--PUT ME DOWN!!!!"

Everyone including Slappy laughed as he whisked the soldier around in the air as he screamed.  They had fun messing with the racist for about 10 minutes until a huge explosion sounded just in front of them.

"FUCK!"

"GET DOWN!"

Slappy lowered the racist and ran with the other men into some shrubbery next to Scooter. "Hey man...thanks for having my back.  Ain't used to that from white folk."

Slappy grinned and nodded.  "Any time.  You can repay me with some grits if we get through this alive."

Scooter smiled. "You got it, brother."

Their conversation was cut short by gunfire and whirring by the planes above them.  It looked like there was another skirmish beyond the trees where the explosion was.

"WE AIN'T GONNA GET MUCH DONE HERE, LADS!"

"WE NEED TO CLEAR THOSE TREES!  WHO'S GOT AGENT ORANGE???"

"WHAT??  ARE YOU CRAZY??  YOU'LL KILL EVERYONE!" Slappy yelled.

"GIVE ME YOUR GODDAMNED AGENT O, PRIVATE!!  I OUTRANK YOU!!"

Slappy sighed and reached for the deadly herbicide on his belt. "Fuck me..." he mumbled as he handed it to the corporal, who uncorked the bottle and threw it.  A bright orange gas emerged and quickly, the palm trees stumbled down to the ground and died, revealing North Vietnamese soldiers hiding behind more shrubbery.

"FIRE!!!"

Slappy and the men started shooting, picking off the Communists one by one.  They noticed them and turned around and began firing.  Slappy ducked and reloaded.  He'd never been religious, but he was praying now, closing his eyes as sweat wiped off most of his camo paint.  He was breathing faster than he ever had.  He collected himself and started shooting again.  It wasn't doing any good.  He looked down at his belt desperate and found a hand grenade.  He uncorked and threw and killed a handful of Vietcong in the blast.

"Holy shit..." all he could do was stare.

"CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!"

The men yelled running towards the Vietcong soldiers and started punching and throwing fists.  Slappy wasn't tall enough for hand-to-hand, so when he charged up to his man, he tripped his leg with his gun.  The enemy soldier fell to the ground and Slappy, filled with a newfound rage he never got from summoning monsters to destroy towns and place fear in the hearts of children, placed his gun on his stomach and pulled the trigger.  Blood and intestines flowed out as the soldier breathed his last gasps looking up at Slappy with fear in his eyes. Finally, his breathing stopped.

He was dead.

He looked no older than 18.

Gunfire raged all around him, but Slappy felt dizzy and stumbled backwards.

_Holy fuck, I just killed someone.  I just killed a fucking kid, holy fuck..._

Slappy came to and grabbed his gun.  The shooting stopped.  

"SCOOTER!!  SCOOTER!!  PETE!!" He called.

"Over here, man!  We gotta get outta here!"

He ran with them back through the jungle when they got the call to retreat back to camp.

Slappy was still shaken that night in bed.  All he kept seeing was that soldier's eyes.  They were going to haunt him, he knew.  He wasn't just causing mischief anymore.  He was responsible for a death now.  What would the kid's parents say when they found out?  If people knew who he was in Australia, surely they knew in Vietnam.  He made a point to find out who they were and where they lived so he could apologize, but for now, he used his powers (everyone was asleep) to write a letter.

_June 15th, 1969_

_Dear everyone -_

_I killed someone today.  A kid.  He looked like he was 17.  He looked like Zach, only Asian.  He should be going to prom, going to college, getting laid and now he won't be able to do any of that because of me.  All I can see is his goddamned eyes.  They were brown, like mine.  What the hell are his folks gonna say?  I just found out they know who I am in Australia (more on that later).  So these people probably know who I am too.  I'm fucked, basically.  I'm planning to find out who they are so I can apologize.  That'll go well. "Hi folks, I'm the dummy that killed your son and made his intestines spill out and almost destroyed an entire town."_

_Speaking of the Aussie guys, we met a bunch while we were on patrol today.  They were funny.  They kept calling each other mate and saying bloody.  Oh also, they were riding with a bunch of Americans and one was an asshole from Alabama and Papa, PLEASE don't be mad, but...I used my powers today.  I had to.  He called Scooter the n word.  Papa, I know I don't have many morals, but I know racism is NOT okay.  And Scooter and I are tight so it's DEFINITELY not okay.  You know I don't let my friends get disrespected like that.  So I just whizzed him around the air for a bit. It was funny.  The guys loved it.  I made Scooter promise me some grits when we get stateside._

_How are things at home?  Do you all miss me?  You probably don't now that I'm a murderer.  I don't blame you.  Time for bed, even though I'll probably never sleep again._

 

_Slappy_

_P.S. remember seeing all those reports about Agent Orange on TV?  The stuff is WILD!  It burned down palm trees in a minute!_


	4. Letters, Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A-farts = slang for Armed Forces Radio/TV Network because of its abbreviation, AFRTS
> 
> blitzed = drunk

_ June 30, 1969 _

 

_ Dear Slappy, _

 

_ We are all fine.  I’m sorry to hear you killed someone, but you’re gaining empathy like I hoped you would and that’s the silver lining. _

_ I’ll be honest; I’m not happy you used your powers.  But considering the situation, I don’t think it matters.  Slappy, if what you say is true, you learned one of the most valuable lessons a man can learn: how to stand up for a friend in need.  That’s something no one can ever take away. _

_ I’m unbelievably proud of you and we are ALL thinking of you, despite what you think.  Mary-Ellen and Hannah are beside themselves. Even Zach wants you to come home in one piece.   
_

_ Stay safe and come home to us; we have a “groovy” (Hannah taught me that one) coming-home party planned!  Oops…that was supposed to be a surprise! _

 

_ Love, _

_ Papa _

 

_ July 4, 1969 _

 

_ My fellow Americans — _

 

_ Happy 4th.  Nothing more American than getting shot at in the name of freedom, eh? _

_ I hate it here.  It’s hot, humid, muggy.  It rains all the damned time because of monsoon season.  I can feel my wood melting off. Why couldn’t the penguins in Antarctica start a war so we could fight there?  Like that Napoleon guy did to the Russians. Or was it the other way around? _

_ When we first got here, we were riding high morale-wise.  But now everyone’s in a pissy mood. Some guys got shot, no one I care about, though.  I’m not doing this, but Sarge caught some guys who were deserting to a different place other than assigned and radioing in false reports.  We call it sand-bagging.  I wish I was in charge so I could use my powers on them. Just do your job man, it ain’t hard.  But at the same time, I don't blame them.  Pete and I have been talking about doing it next time we're out on patrol.  
_

_ Thanks for the kind words, Papa.  I’m still shaken by it. I guess cause I’ve never thought I was a race before other than dummy.  But I guess I’m a white dummy? Nah. A white dummy started this war. I ain’t a dummy. Heh. _

_ Shoot off some fireworks, eat a hot dog, drink a beer and do a cannonball for me. _

 

_ Slappy _

_ P.S.  Marijuana is awful, don't try it.  Don't ask how I know. _

 

_ July 10, 1969 _

 

_ Hey Slaps, _

_ Hey man, hope you’re doing good.  Miss you a lot. You owe me as many of our old drunk days on Papa’s roof as you’re gone! _

_ Mary-Ellen won’t shut the fuck up about you.  When she’s not crying over you, she’s talking about your wedding.  You didn't propose to her before you left, did you?  I don't want this chick for a sister-in-law.    
_

_ Just take care of yourself and get home quick.  You owe me a beer. _

_ Love, Wally _

_ P.S. how are the chicks there? _

_ P.P.S. I stole some of your Beach Boys 45s.  Hannah said it was ok.  You don't mind, right? Do you get TV over there? _

 

_ July 20, 1969 _

 

_ Wally - _

 

_ Haven't meet any chicks yet, but I do get R&R in a few weeks so we'll see what Japanese chicks are like.  We do meet some when we go on patrol.  They're all in the fields getting rice and stuff.  Their hats hide their faces but the young ones have some nice bodies.  We whistle to them sometimes.  No TV over here, just Armed Forces Radio and they play the same damned Yankees game every day.  Can you ask Papa to send me an address to them so I can write them to broadcast the Sox every once in a while?  
_

_ Give back my records, motherfucker. _

_ Slappy _

 

_ August 10, 1969 _

 

_ Dear Papa: _

 

_ I heard about a really bad thing a bunch of guys in another unit are doing.  Morale is so low guys are starting to frag each other.  Literally kill each other.  I heard it on A-farts the other day.  Luckily the guys in my unit and I are pretty tight so I don't think that'll happen. _

_ Pete and I sand-bagged and almost got caught.  Scooter's too much of a chicken to do it but he didn't rat us out but he said "I told you so!" and laughed. Scooter's a cool guy.  I can't wait for you to meet him when I get home.  Hell, I'll bring my whole unit home; they're not treating me like an outcast because I'm a dummy or anything.  They're always asking questions about my soul and my powers and getting to know me.  They're real cool heads and they want to meet you, but we gotta get through this crock of shit first. _

_ It won't stop fucking raining.  And it's bad because the Charlies are used to it so they got the upper hand when we fight.  A couple guys been picked off. _

_ Haven't killed anyone else since that day.  I can't do it.  Unless it's by a grenade, I'll throw those suckers any day and watch Commie bastards go flying, haha. _

_ Slappy _

_ P.S. we had a movie night and watched The Thief of Bagdad.  Jerry said Doug Fairbanks did all his own stunts.  We told him he was full of shit. _

 

_ August 13, 1969 _

 

_ Slappy - _

 

_ PLEASE don't do anything stupid or that you'll regret.  You're doing really well so far.   _

_ And yes, Douglas Fairbanks did do his own stunts! _

_ Love,  
Papa _

 

_ September 1, 1969 _

 

_ Dear Slappy, _

 

_ Mr. Stine said I should write you something.  I didn't even know you were in Nam until he told me.  I've been trying to forget the shit you pulled so I wasn't paying attention. _

_ Anyway, I still haven't forgiven you for what you did, but I don't want even you to die, so please be safe.  No one deserves that and I'm not sure if you have access to a radio or TV, but Johnson keeps sending more and more guys over and Nixon plans to do the same if elected.  I almost got drafted but Champ did.  Have you seen him over there yet?  He's in the Army too. _

_ Anyway, you probably should know this...I proposed to Hannah.  She said yes.  So I'm going to be your brother-in-law.  I don't know if you'll be as fucked in the head as you were when I first met you when (if) you get home, but for the sake of Hannah, let's please try and get along.  I know she's your sister and you want to protect her, but I will do everything in my power to do that. _

_ Just don't get yourself killed, all right?  I want you to be one of my groomsmen.  As nuts as it makes me look, Mr. Stine says based on your letters, you've changed and are learning a lot and I believe him.  So come back in one piece, man.  I'll even buy you a beer. _

 

_ Best,  
Zach _

 

_ September 4, 1969 _

 

_ Zach, _

 

_ Congratulations.  I mean really, that's great.  Hannah deserves a good guy after the hell I put her through.  I think you're it. _

_ Just don't treat her bad, or you know what'll happen. _

_ Slappy _

 

_ P.S. I knew the dumbass kid the guys were talking about in the unit stationed not too far from us was Champ the minute they said he had to get a busted land mine he stepped in removed from his shoe, haha. _

 

_ September 7, 1969 _

 

_ Dear Slappy, _

 

_ Zach said he already wrote you, but yeah, he and I are getting married.  He got Dad's blessing and proposed to me on the ferris wheel where we had our first date.  It was so cute!  I wish you were here, Slappy...we had an engagement party last night that you would have loved.  It was for me and Zach, but everyone there was definitely thinking of you.  We watched your favorite episodes of Star Trek and Twilight Zone.  Wally got blitzed.  You would've been right there with him!  Don't feel like you were taking the day from us; we got a lot of engagement presents!!  You're just always on our mind.  We're wondering how you're doing, where you are, how many people you've killed and most of all, if you're safe.  WE MISS YOU!!!! _

_ Dad told me what you did to that soldier. That's crazy!  But I'm glad you're horrified by it.  I really think you're growing as a person and that's why I talked Zach into letting you be a groomsman.  Champ is gonna be best man when he gets stateside.  So you boys better come home!!! _

_ Sand-bagging sounds like a blast.  Not gonna lie, I'd definitely do it with you.  Sand-bagging, that is.  I'm your sister, ew! _

_ PLEASE stay safe. _

_ Love,  
Hannah _

_ P.S. Mary-Ellen told me about the naked Marilyn Monroe picture you have.  Slappy, you know how I feel about objectifying women.  And Mary-Ellen is your girl! _

 

_ September 11, 1969 _

 

_ Hannah Banana, _

 

_ Hannah, you know I 100% respect women.  Respecting women also includes respecting their bodies!!!!  Hahahahahaha!!!! _

_ You shouldn't have made yours and Zach's day all about me, but I appreciate it.  I'm not doing anything remarkable here, just trying to survive. _

_ I got to ride in a tank today!  It was groovy, but really dark inside.  I learned a whole bunch of controls and even got to drive for a bit! _

_ Mary-Ellen is only half my girl.  Even if she was fully my girl, a man still got eyes, _

 

_ Slappy _

 

 

_ September 18, 1969 _

 

_ Baby: _

 

_ Don't let anyone else see this letter.  This one's just for you (you'll probably show Hannah anyway.  Chicks are weird). _

_ I hate to say it, but I miss you.  I miss your hair, your eyes, your lips, I miss your stupid cute plastic nose.  I miss that jasmine perfume you wear.  I swear I smell it walking around camp or beside me when I fall asleep at night. _

_ Speaking of falling asleep at night, I can't because you're not next to me.  I can't hold you and make you feel safe.  I can't even make myself feel safe right now. _

_ I hate saying this too but...I love you.  I do.  I've never loved anything in my life other than ruining lives, but for the first time, I love someone else.  I wish I could make you promises about when I'll be home, but I don't want to lie anymore.  I do know I need to come home to you...I know that now.  I gotta get outta this place, like that song by the Animals. _

_ I get R&R soon.  Will you meet me in Tokyo?  There's a USO dance a Saturday in October and that's when they're planning to send us.  I'll let you know when it is.  I really want to see you, darlin. _

_ I really do miss you, babe. _

_ Love,  
Slappy _

 

_ September 25, 1969 _

 

_ Slappy, my love: _

 

_ I didn't show your letter to anyone except Hannah (you were right!) _

_ I'd love to come out.  I really want to see you too...and I need to see you...I need to tell you something...and I don't know if you'll love me anymore once I tell it to you... _

_ Oh Slappy, I miss you too...I miss how you always comb your hair over, I miss your boutonniere, I miss how you always look so dapper.  And you do wear the nicest cologne.  And I miss your kisses, sweeter than honey, like Aretha Franklin says! _

_ My bed is too big without you...I can't wait to see you and cuddle you and hold you and tell each other we're ours forever and plan our wedding.  You still want to get married, right?  Wally tells me to shut up whenever I start talking about it...what a jerk. _

_ I love you so much, Slappy...I know I haven't been a peach to you in the past but I wanna make things work this time. _

_ Yours forever,  
Mary-Ellen _

 

_ September 30, 1969 _

 

_ Dear everyone: _

 

_ I GOT PROMOTED!!!  I was Private Second Class after basic, but now I'm Private First Class Slappy Stine!  Yeah, Sarge said I did a good job driving the tank yesterday when we ran into some Commies.  Heh, the Army is a cinch! _

 

_ Love,  
Slappy _


	5. R&R

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's party time! But can Slappy stay faithful in Tokyo?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vietnam era Army dress greens: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ba/ff/e8/baffe882667b4b7ce688fc57e210302b.jpg

October came and morale was at a standstill.  None of Slappy’s friends had been killed and the company was still fairly large, but a number of men were either killed or wounded.  Stine had sent him here to gain empathy, but Slappy was learning that there was no _time_ for empathy during a firefight.  When a man died, you dumped his body in a ditch and kept fighting.  Maybe you’d say a prayer for him when you got back to camp, but there was no funeral service until the dead got home.  
  
In mid-October, Sergeant Morris announced that the men would be getting a weekend of R &R.  Slappy and the men breathed a sigh of relief; they needed this after five months of nonstop fighting.  While the rest of the men were looking forward to chasing anything in and out of a skirt, Slappy hastily wrote a letter to Mary-Ellen that night.  


 

 _October 12, 1969_  


_Mar -_  


_Baby, I got R &R this weekend!  Meet me in Tokyo Saturday.  I’ll meet you at the airport. You’ll know it’s me.  Don’t bring anyone else. I want it to be just us._  


_Slaps_  


That night, Scooter, Pete and the rest of the guys had their usual bull session in Slappy and Scooter's tent, but tonight, each man shared what they were going to do in Tokyo.  
  
"GET LAID!" was the resounding answer, to which the men toasted with imaginary glasses while shouting "hear hear!" and laughing.  
  
"I'm gonna get so much pussy..." Doug mused.  
  
"That means 'none at all,'" all the guys laughed.  
  
"What are you gonna do, Slaps?"  
  
"Well, my girl's comin' out..."  
  
Doug stood up stressed. "What IS it with you fellas?  We get a weekend and you wanna spend it with your women instead of getting random ass!  Our women are thousands of miles away from us. who cares about them?  How do you even have sex anyway?" he looked at Slappy.  
  
"It's small but I'm sure it works a helluva lot better than yours, pal."  A silent "oooh" came from the rest of the men.  Doug raised his eyebrows.  
  
Doug marched up to him, forcing Slappy to get up off his bed on which he was reclining on his stomach and stand up.  "Yeah?  How do you know that?"  
  
Slappy put his hands on the fly of his fatigue pants. "I don't know, you wanna find out?"  
  
They guys all yelled and clapped for Slappy.  "So Slaps, you use those powers to, uh...you know...get your girl in all the right places?"  
  
"Ah come onnn, Mary_Ellen don't seem like that type of girl."  
  
"Oh believe me, fellas...she is DEFINITELY that type of girl.  I narrow my eyes and her panties go flying!"  
  
The men all laugh and clap and cheer.  
  
"Fellas, can we all make a pact to get laid at least once this weekend?" Pete asked.  
  
"Sounds good to me.  All in?" Doug put his hand in and all the men and Slappy join in.  "And DEFINITELY get blitzed!"  All the men said "yes" in agreement.  
  
\---------------  
Four days and a couple of skirmishes later, the mood was much, much different.  Doug was dead.  He died Thursday.  A Charlie threw a grenade that killed him and two other men from the Australian company.  Slappy and the other men sat somberly on the bus to Saigon in their Army dress greens, caps included.  Each of them replayed that day in their heads.  
  
It was early morning just after breakfast.  They set out on their usual patrol route when a blast sounded right behind them.  They took cover and started firing.  Doug, being the loudmouthed asshole that he was, ran out into the clearing and started shooting with the Australian guys.  A Charlie threw a grenade.  Slappy looked up just in time to see the smoke and three bodies being blown to kingdom come.  Now he sat on the bus thinking about what he could’ve done, even though he did everything he could.  After Doug had run out, Slappy had run after him and tugged on his leg.  
  
“WHERE ARE YOU GOING??”  
  
“I’M KILLING THESE BASTARDS!!”  
  
“YOU DO THAT AND YOU’RE GONNA GET YOURSELF KILLED!!”  
  
“GOOD!!”  
  
And he watched him die.  
  
Slappy knew he was in the wrong for thinking it, but he hated Stine even more now.  _If you had written me taller, Papa, I could’ve grabbed him and saved him._  
  
He could just picture him saying “if you didn’t like him, why did you want him saved”?  To which Slappy saw himself replying, “well it’s like me and you.  Just because I hate the son of a bitch doesn’t mean I want him dead” to which Stine would probably chuckle and roll his eyes and shake his head.  
  
His mind was brought back to the present day by Pete’s voice. “Hey fellas.  Doug would have wanted us to get blitzed and go all the way with chicks this weekend, so I say we tie one on in his memory.  Who’s with me?”  
  
They all stared at him at first.  Slappy stood up. “I am.  I could’ve saved him yesterday.  I tried to save him…”  
  
“You did all you could, man.  Doug was a stubborn asshole.”  
  
Slappy nodded.  “But he woulda wanted this.  Now I got a girl so I can only do the blitzed part, but… I say we do this together for Doug.”  
  
The men smiled and nodded. “Hear hear!”  
  
Seven hours later, they all cheered as they got off the plane in Tokyo.  
  
“We’re here, boys!”  
  
“Wow…”  Slappy looked around as they went outside with their bags.  The city looked like Times Square with kanji.  There were flashing neon lights and signs.  Colors were everywhere.    
  
“Ain’t this a place to tie one on, eh?”  
  
“You said it, Slaps!”  Scooter put an arm around him and shook his shoulder.  
  
“And the ladies are lookin’ pretty fine too!” Pete looked around as beautiful Japanese women smiled at them.  Slappy smiled back with flirtatious raised eyebrows, but quickly caught himself.  If he was this flirty without alcohol, he had to watch himself tonight.  
  
“Whaddaya say, boys?  Hotel to freshen up then go?” Jerry asked and the men nodded.    
  
Their hotel was in the center of Tokyo, a tall, beige building called the Hotel Okura.  They went inside and found themselves in a spacious lobby with beige marble flooring and a chandelier.  They walked up to the front desk and checked in with their unit name.    
  
"We roomin' together, right, brother?" Scooter asked Slappy.  
  
"You got it, pal!" the two friends slapped hands.  
  
They got the keys from the front desk clerk and went up to their rooms.  Scooter and Slappy opened the door to their room and stepped inside.  Slappy wolf-whistled.  The room was huge.  Covered in a traditional Japanese tatami mat, the beds were behind two traditional Japanese screens.  There was a table in the middle of the room and a bar.  
  
"Wow...it's just like You Only Live Twice!" Slappy said looking around with wide eyes, thinking of his favorite James Bond movie.  
  
"I never joke about my work, 007," Scooter imitated Q's voice perfectly.  Slappy looked at him wide-eyed.  
  
"You know James Bond?!"  
  
"Of course!  Who don't?"  
  
"Brother, I think I'm in love with you..."  
  
"Yeah?  Well I LOVE YOU TOO, MAN!!!" Scooter picked Slappy up.    
  
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!" Slappy screamed but laughed at the same time as Scooter carried him to his bed and threw him down and got up.  Slappy looked around.  
  
"Two words for this place, man.  Chick.  Magnet."  
  
Scooter snorted and raised an eyebrow. "Thought your girl was coming?"  
  
"She is, but I still got tonight!"  
  
Scooter sat down next to him. "Slaps, what's y'all's deal?"  
  
Slappy shook his head.  "I don't know...one minute we're fine and the next we're fighting and broken up...I do love her but fuck, she drives me crazy..."  
  
Scooter laughed. "Don't all chicks?"  
  
Slappy laughed.  "You haven't met Mary-Ellen."  
  
"Well...is she a good lay, at least?"  
  
"Hell yeah, she's amazing and I know she'd be hurt if I cheated on her...but I mean, five months is a long time...but you know, she comes tomorrow, I'll be fine."  
  
"You sure, man?  Cause we can get you a girl..."  
  
Slappy laughed. "Yeah man, I'm fine!"  
  
"All right, all right!" As a knock came at their door and Pete and Jerry barged in.  Pete looked around.  
  
"Yooooooo, look at what you boys got!"  
  
"Wow...I wish I was old enough to drink..." Jerry mused.  
  
"What?  How old are you?"  
  
"19."  
  
"Oof...one year away here, man."  
  
"Ah, come on, if he can fight, he can drink!"  
  
"So what's the plan?"  
  
"We go out, tie one on, get a bunch of girls, then come back here and drink more!"  
  
All the men cheer.  Slappy went behind the bar and looked around. "Yo, there's whiskey in here!"  
  
"Pour us a glass, man!"  
  
Slappy smiled and got out four glasses and poured everyone a glass of whiskey.  He raised his glass.  
  
"To Doug."  
  
"To Doug," the men somberly raised their glasses and drank to their fallen comrade.  
  
"All right, fellas.  Get spruced up and we'll paint this town red for our brother."  
  
Not like he had much primping to do since he was a dummy, but Slappy still took the time to take care of his appearance, shaving and combing his hair.  Scooter laughed watching him.  
  
"Brother, you crazy!"  
  
"Hey, even dummies gotta look good!"  
  
They both laughed as Scooter picked him up again and they joined Jerry and Pete and headed out.  
  
Slappy hadn't been this happy in a long, long time since before he was even drafted; the lights, the sounds of the city and the camaraderie he was sharing with his fellow soldiers put a smile on his face as they walked down the main street, lined with lights, shops, bars and people. Pete threw his arms around Slappy and Scooter.

"We're here for _five days,_ fellas!  I don't even know where to start..."

"Let's ride the subway, see what we can find!" Scooter said.

They got on the subway and ended up in Kanda and found a bar called Beaver.  Inside, it was dark and filled with cigarette smoke.  People were sitting at small tables with red chairs.  Pete nodded.

"Good starting point, no?"

The guys nodded and sat down at the bar.  The Japanese bartender smiled at them and walked over.

"Hey Joes!  What are you drinking?"

"Whiskeys all around!" Pete smiled.

The bartender smiled and poured them all glasses of whiskey.  After a few shots and talking to the bartender, Scooter looked around. "No women here, man..."

"I know, this place is a drag...no offense, brother," Pete said to the bartender, who shook his head.

"None taken, I get it all the time from Joes.  If you want women, go to Shinjuku Golden Gai.  Prostitution's illegal now, but there's still plenty of dames.  It's where writers go."

"Oh yeah, just what I need.  A chick reciting Shakespeare while I..." Slappy imitated spanking and the guys laughed. 

"So much for that girl of yours, eh, Slaps?"

"Hey, they don't call me Slappy for nothing!  I got a rep to protect!"

They downed one more shot of whiskey and go to Shinjuku.  They went inside a small jazz bar called Jazz Bar Samurai.  The walls were decorated with Showa-era posters and haiku.  A jazz band played as couples slow-danced on the dance floor.

"Classy joint," Pete mused as they sat down at the bar and ordered a round of whiskey again. 

Slappy tapped his fingers on the bar and nodded to the music gently looking around.  He was on his second drink--an old-fashioned--when he spotted her.  She was at a table lit by a dim table lamp smoking a cigarette.  Tall.  Leggy.  In a form-fitting black dress with black heels.  His type of woman to a T.  She saw him too--the short yet handsome soldier in his Army dress greens.  She could tell he had a girl, but she knew that look:  a soldier looking to stray was a dime a dozen, but there was something different about him.  He downed the old-fashioned and watched her reapply her lipstick, reapply perfume and brush her curly black hair, looking like a sexier Liz Taylor.

Slappy turned back to his drink and murmured to Scooter, "2:00, behind you."

Scooter turned and looked and wolf-whistled. "Damnnn, that's Liz Taylor's clone!"

"No kidding and I'm only on my second drink."

"Remember your girl, man..."

Slappy nodded and ordered another drink, this time a tall glass of beer so he could nurse it and weigh his options.  He hadn't had sex in five months.  That was a con.  But the pro was that Mary-Ellen was on a plane to Tokyo at this very minute and she'd be here in the morning.  It wouldn't be a good look if he cheated on the girl he planned to marry.  But... _did_ he still want to marry her?  Or would it just be the same cycle of bullshit that they ran into when they tried to date?

Slappy didn't know if it was the alcohol or the sorcerer's soul that was egging him on more.  He looked back at the woman.  She was tapping her cigarette on the table as if impatient for him to come talk to her.  He winked at her, smiling slightly.  That earned him a sexy smirk and Slappy felt that familiar feeling in his nether regions.  _Dummies can get hard?  What the fuck...well, I guess it makes sense._ He turned back to his drink smoothing his hair back, sweating slightly.

"Go talk to her, man..." Pete warned.

"Think I should?"

"Of course you should!  Not every day you find an American chick in Tokyo."

"But I got a--"

Pete put his hands on Slappy's little wooden shoulders.  "Slaps, you don't know when you're gonna get R&R again, your girl doesn't get here till tomorrow, do what you always do and fuck shit up!"

"Hey fuck you, I don't _always_ fuck shit up!"

"Well just go talk to her!"

"Uh...you sure one of you fellas don't want her?"

"Brother, she's looking straight at you," Scooter laughed.

Slappy nodded and downed his beer and ordered a bourbon and approached her smiling sitting down.

"This seat wasn't taken, was it?" he flirted.  The woman smiled and shook her head.

"No drink for me?" she said mock sadly.  Slappy was so entranced by the cigarette slipping in and out of her parted red lips that he didn't hear what she said at first.

"Iii can get you one!  What are you drinking?"

The woman took a drag and blew out a stream of smoke. "What do you think I like?" Her voice was just the right amount of cigarette-raspy.

 _Something I can't afford,_ Slappy wanted to say, but instead he said, "I can get you a bourbon."

"That'll do," she stubbed the cigarette out on the ashtray as he went to the bar and got a bourbon and brought it back.  Seeing that she had a new cigarette in her mouth, he flicked out his lighter and lit it for her.  She smiled slightly and took a drag.

"Didn't expect such gentlemanly behavior from someone who almost destroyed an entire town."

Slappy was taken aback; at this point, he shouldn't be surprised that people knew who he was, but such a beautiful lady knowing was not expected.  His charm helped him bounce back quickly and he grinned slightly.

"Private First Class Slappy Stine at your service.  And you are...?"

The woman took another drag and exhaled through her nostrils. "Sheila.  Sheila Sawyer.  You look like you could use another drink," she indicated his empty glass.  "What's your poison?"

Slappy needed something strong to make him forget about Mary-Ellen; this was going somewhere and he liked it.  "Rum and whiskey," he said, keeping his eyes on her.  She got up and he saw her lithe body in that sexy black dress rise.  She gently brushed her long, painted red nails against his tie as he watched her ass sway to the bar, her long, long legs like sirens calling him as she leaned against the bar.  The guys looked at him, raising their eyebrows and nodding.  He flashed them the a-okay sign and winked.

Sheila returned and handed him his drink.  "Thank you.  So..." Slappy channeled what he learned from all those years of watching Bond movies. "what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Sheila took a drag and exhaled. "I'm a journalist.  I'm covering the war for the New York Times."

"That's how you know me."

Sheila grinned and nodded. "Full page spread.  October 12, 1968.  Giant.  Capital.  Letters."  Her tongue moving in and out, her perfume and the alcohol were making him feel sleepy and stupid.

"I must say, that was one of the more...interesting stories I've covered."

"And why is that?"

Slappy watched her slide her long nails up and down her glass, knowing what she was playing at. "Because look at you now.  You're a soldier.  One of the good guys.  And tables turning is...interesting to me."

Slappy grinned slightly. "I aim to please."

Sheila leaned forward.  "I've never been pleased by a dummy before."

He looked at her with piercing brown eyes. "You'll have to wait a little longer for that."

She smiled slightly.  He could see her cleavage as she leaned forward. "How much longer?"

"Don't know.  I can assure you I'm no dummy."

"You know I'm aware of that..." she dragged her cigarette down his sleeve-covered wooden arm.  It had no affect.  He heard Pete snap his fingers and turned around.  The others had some American girls and were motioning him to join them.  He turned back to Sheila.

"We're...having a small get-together at our hotel room.  You'll be accompanying me?"

"Is that a question?"

"Would prefer it to be a demand," his eyebrows narrow.  She smirked and stood up above him, making him stand up and take her hand.  Scooter, Pete and Jerry cheered as they joined them.  Slappy and Sheila eye-fucked each other on the subway ride back to the hotel.  The alcohol and motion of the train was making him dizzy, yet he was strangely coherent about what he and this woman were going to do.  All thoughts of Mary-Ellen were gone; he was bad again and he loved it.

Just like at camp, the boys converged on Scooter and Slappy's room, since it was the only one with a bar.  Pete's girl had brought records, Scooter and Slappy had made a run to a liquor store and once everything was in place, music blared and alcohol flowed.  Scooter, Pete and Jerry made out with their girls, but Slappy felt Mary-Ellen holding him back even though he was getting more and more buzzed, so he and Sheila continued to flirt.

"How long are you in Japan for?" he asked and she shrugged.

"Depends.  I'm on a bit of a vacation.  Like you."

Slappy smiled gently.  Sheila scooted closer to him and massaged his knee gently.  Now he was the one getting goosebumps.

"I remember writing about your powers..."

He looked at her. "Oh?"

"So...fascinating.  The soul of a sorcerer in a man who's no dummy..."

Slappy snorted and shook his head. "I got a girl."

Her hand stopped. "You're married?"

"Well...not yet.  I don't even know if I wanna marry her, but...I know she'd be hurt if we did...what you wanna do."

"Well..." she leaned him kissing him deeply, slowly, sexily.  He closed his eyes, already addicted; she tasted like deep, rich chocolate.  Moving back, she murmured against his lips, "I'll be in your room in case you change your mind.  You can use your powers to get me out of my dress." She smiled getting up and sashaying into his room, smiling over her shoulder at him and closing the screen door.  Slappy could see her silhouette sitting on his bed taking her shoes off.

Again he was faced with a crossroads.  His mind and body were at war.  His body begged for sex but his mind begged him to wait just 12 more hours.  But 12 hours was too far away and he found the idea of pleasuring himself, especially while his buddies were actually getting laid, pathetic.  And here was a woman who knew who he was and still wanted him.  He pounded back a few more bourbons and, now drunk and pouring himself and Sheila a glass of red wine, strutted casually into his room with an evil smile on his face.  Mary-Ellen who?


	6. Mary-Ellen's Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary-Ellen visits Slappy in Tokyo and reveals some big news to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Earth Angel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uZRI7B7vdYA
> 
> (Also I promise: Chapter 7 we'll go right back to WAR and KILLIN)

On Thursday night, Hannah watched Mary-Ellen pack.  She shoved clothes into her suitcase with a sad look on her face.

 

“Are you, um...excited?” Hannah asked timidly.  

 

“Excited about going out of the country for the first time, yeah.”

 

“...what about seeing Slappy?”

 

Mary-Ellen stopped and looked at her suitcase, then at Hannah. “I don’t know, Han...I mean, why is he so desperate to see me?”

 

Hannah shrugged.  “Maybe he misses you.”

 

The doll shook her head.  “I don’t know...something’s not right.”

 

“Aw come on, Mar...his letters to you are so sweet and romantic.  He just wants to see you and you’re gonna have fun. Maybe he’ll take you to a nice sushi dinner and isn’t there a dance he was talking about?”

 

Mary-Ellen nodded warily.

 

“Are you gonna tell him?” Hannah asked.  


 

“I have to, don’t I?”

 

Hannah nodded.  “It’ll be fine, Mar.  Just enjoy yourself!”

 

——

 

In Tokyo, Slappy groaned, rubbing his eyes, thinking how great his sleep was until he felt it.

 

_ Fuck.  My head. _

 

The familiar hangover pain reminded him that he didn’t have a clue what happened last night.  He smiled, his eyes still closed; that was a sign of a good night. 

 

He opened his eyes and sat up, bleary-eyed.  The white linen sheets were disheveled, some on the floor.  _What the hell happened last night?_ He groaned and rubbed his eyes and looked around.  On the nightstand next to his bed were two empty wine glasses, each with a little red wine still left in the center.  


 

"I don't drink wine, what the hell?" Slappy picked up one of the glasses and observed it, holding the stem and moving it around in his hand.  His eyes widened when he saw it; on the rim of the glass was faded red lipstick.  He dropped the glass and started to pant, horrified.  All of the events of last night were coming back to him when Scooter came in, pulling on his white t-shirt.

 

"Hey man, you're up!  Boy, that was some party last night!"

 

"I'll...I'll say...Scooter, what happened last night?"

 

Scooter laughed.  "We tied one on, brother!  You were gulpin' down bourbon like it was water!"

 

They heard the door to the room open and Jerry poked his head into Slappy's room. "Yeah and you scored with this fine writer chick!"

 

Slappy didn't know if he had a heart due to being made of wood, but if he did, he felt it drop into his wooden stomach.  "I...brought back a girl?"

 

"You sure did, pal!  And she turned out to be pretty easy once you got some booze in her!"

 

Slappy panted, horrified.  "I gotta tell my girl..."

 

"Aw come on, man!  You're on R&R!  What happens on R&R stays on R&R and all that.  Besides, what she don't know can't hurt her!"

 

Scooter _did_ have a point; Mary-Ellen _was_ that dumb that she'd never find out.  And it wasn't like he was going to cheat on her after this weekend.  He was a soldier away from home being shot at every day, he should be able to enjoy himself when rewarded with a few days' rest.  Then he started thinking about Stine and why he was here.  He thought about Hannah and Zach and the trust they had.  If he couldn't give Mary-Ellen basic respect as a partner, what _could_ he give her?  He decided he'd only tell her about it if she asked.

 

"You guys talking about Slappy's girl?  She left you this, by the way.  We found it on the bar," Pete came in and handed Slappy a piece of paper with Sheila's name on it and her phone number.  Slappy groaned and fell back onto his pillow groaning, "Great..."

 

"Hey man, like Scoots said, you can't let it make ya feel bad.  You're on R&R, ya gotta live a little!" Jerry said.

 

Slappy rubbed his eye again. "What time is it, anyway?"

 

"11:00.  We were gonna go downstairs for breakfast and--"

 

"11:00?!?  Mary-Ellen wired that her flight gets in at 11:30!!  I gotta get to the airport!!"  He jumps up and puts on his dress greens and cap and runs out, leaving his buddies to look at each other, confused.

 

"That boy cares way too much about his girl, man..."

 

"Honestly, he's on R&R, what happens on--"

 

"Scooter, I swear to God if you say 'stays on R&R' again..."

 

\----------------

 

Mary-Ellen's sweat only increased as the plane descended into Tokyo.  She stared out the window, but it was like she was seeing text versions of all the questions rushing through her head instead of the scenery.  How would Slappy react to her news?  Would he still want to be with her?  Did he still want to get married?  And probably the biggest question she had:  was he being faithful?  His letters gave the sense that he was, but she knew how Slappy could be; full of talk and no show, especially when it came to their relationship.  

 

She was praying the plane would never land, but to her dismay, it did.  Then she hoped the people in front of her took as long as possible getting their overhead luggage and to her relief, they did.  But eventually, the aisle cleared and having no overhead bags, she made her way off the plane and into the gate.  She looked around and didn't see him.  She frowned but at the same time, she wasn't surprised; she knew he wouldn't be here.  

 

She found the escalator and stepped on, making her way down.  She had a tough time seeing due to all the humans being taller than her, but she happened to poke her head out to see the floor at the end of the escalator by baggage claim and there he was.  Clearly, he could see her; he was looking straight at her with that grin she knew so well, holding a piece of paper that read "Mary-Ellen" in pencil.  Mary-Ellen's nerves dissipated and she didn't know how; he could bring her such peace just by looking at him.  And he _did_ look handsome in his uniform.  He looked even more handsome with the sides of his hair shaved off, as was Army regulations.  She smiled excitedly, bouncing on the soles of her feet, hoping the escalator would stop soon.  He chuckled looking up at her.  Finally, the escalator reached the floor and she ran into his arms and he hugged her tightly, picking her up a little too.  They didn't say anything; the hug telegraphed everything.  Slappy kissed her cheek, hoping she wouldn't ask questions, that'd she believe everything was fine.

 

"These are for you," Slappy held out a bouquet of roses.  

 

"Awww, Slappy!" Mary-Ellen took them and smelled them. "Where'd you get them?"

 

"Some old lady near the food court."

 

She rolled her eyes, "I just want you."  She kissed him and he smiled and took her hand and they kissed as they waited at baggage claim for her suitcase. 

 

"You don't wanna see Tokyo?"

 

"Later...I want to spend time with my handsome soldier," she looked at him dreamily.  Usually, Slappy hated how clingy she was, but he hadn't seen her in so long, had just realized he was in love with her and he needed some action.  They picked up her suitcase and hailed a cab outside and got in.  They kissed all the way to the hotel, Slappy with his eyes closed feelings her lips on his.  It seemed like an eternity until they got to the hotel, but they finally did and ran out.  She threw her arms around him, kissing him in the lobby.  They didn't look out of place; other soldiers and their girls were reuniting; the whole lobby looked like a passion pit.

 

Slappy giggled. "Come onn, we're never gonna get upstairs at this rate!"

 

Mary-Ellen giggled too and she led him to the elevator.  They ran inside and Slappy pressed the 3 and they kissed against the golden walls, still not exchanging words, letting their lips do the talking.  The door opened and he led her, both of them running to his hotel room like giggly little kids.  He opened the door and let her step in, closing the door and leaning against it, observing her.  She looked around in awe.

 

"Wow, Slappy!  This is amazing!  And the Army pays for all of it?"

 

"All of it."

 

She turned around and took his tie seductively.

 

"Even...room service?"

 

"Even room service," he said with his gorgeous smile that she loved.  She was about to kiss him again when Scooter came out of his room.  Mary-Ellen heard footsteps and turned around.  She gave a small yelp and said, "Oh!  You have a roommate!"

 

"Sure do!  Mary-Ellen, this is Private First Class Scooter Jackson."

 

Scooter smiled and shook her hand.  "Obliged, ma'am.  Slappy's told us a lot about you."

 

Mary-Ellen giggled. "I love your accent!"

 

"Charleston, South Carolina, ma'am!  Me n' this little guy are best buds."  He wrapped his arm around Slappy's neck playfully and he laughed and playfully hit him. "Hey!  heey-heey!  Stoppp!"  Scooter laughed and Mary-Ellen smiled.

 

"Hey man, we're goin' to breakfast, you comin'?"

 

"Ahhh, maybe later, you know, I wanna spend some time with my girl."

 

Scooter winked. "I get it.  No one else is in here for ya."

 

"Hey come on, man!" Slappy smiled.

 

"I'm just sayin'!  Hey, dance is at 8 tonight."

 

Slappy nodded. "Got it."

 

He left and Mary-Ellen smiled at Slappy. "Your friend is adorable!"

 

"Yeahhhh, he's a good guy."

 

Mary-Ellen took his tie again. "Not as good as youuuu."

 

He smiled raising his eyebrows. "In all the right places?"

 

"Mmmhmmm, _definitely_ in all the right places, like Cary Grant!"

 

Slappy preened.  "Mmm-hmm-hmm, well..."  He wasn't that much taller than her due to them both being short, but she still stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.  He put his hands on her stomach and felt it.

 

"Hey, you put on a little weight..."

 

She looked down at it.  "Oh, this?  No, that's nothing, I just...we've been eating out a lot."

 

"Oh..." he nodded slowly.

 

"Come onnn, show me your room!" she took his hand and led him to his room.  She closed the screen door and wrapped her arms around his neck and they pressed their foreheads to one another.  

 

"I missed you, Mar."

 

"I missed you too, Slappy..."

 

"Have you been in the book this whole time?"

 

She caressed his face.  "Stine lets me out when you send us a letter.  That first letter you wrote...when he put me back in the book, I took it with me.  I didn't stop reading it till he let me back out again..."

 

He looked at her lips, falling hopelessly in love with her again, forgetting all their fights and issues.  He kissed them gently at first, maneuvering her back towards the bed as they both fell onto it kissing.

 

\-------------------

 

A few hours later, Mary-Ellen was all caught up on her jet lag sleep and opened her eyes and smiled, well-rested and because she was next to the man she loved.  Slappy was still asleep, his face pressed into the pillow.  She reached out gently and caressed her dummy's now muscular wooden arm.  A lot of questions still ran through her head; she had narrowly avoided having to tell him earlier, but how much longer did she have to procrastinate?  It was clear he still loved her, so she wasn't as worried about that part.  She nestled closer to him and stroked his face, knowing he wouldn't feel anything; Slappy was a deep sleeper.  It was the dummy genes, she figured.  She studied his face.  Even though he was a dummy, Mary-Ellen could tell that the Army was aging him beyond his years.  She did one of her favorite things:  trace the lines leading from his mouth to his chin, rubbing the ancient scratch on his chin.  She felt his lips curve into a smile.

 

"Don't think I didn't miss that."  

 

Slappy stirred gently and took Mary-Ellen in his arms and tickled her stomach.  She was extra-sensitive and squealed giggling.  Slappy smiled; it felt just like being home.

 

He released her and closed his eyes again. "What time is it?" Mary-Ellen mumbled.

 

"3.  We can go to dinner or somethin' before the dance," he mumbled into his pillow.

 

She turned around to the nightstand and her brow furrowed as she saw the piece of paper.  Picking it up, she said, "Who's Sheila?"

 

_ Fuck.  _ He opened his eyes feigning tiredness. "Who?"

 

"Sheila.  She wrote her number down," she handed the piece of paper to him and he observed it through squinted eyes.

 

"Uhhh, one of the guys must've brought back a gal last night," he lied.

 

"Why is it in _your_ room?" Mary-Ellen raised her voice, getting mad.

 

"I don't know, we pull pranks on each other, baby!  They probably just put her number in here cause I got you, it's no big deal!"

 

She got out of bed.  "You CHEATED on me???"

 

He jumped out too. "Baby, I was drunk and, and, and...she asked me to buy her a drink and I bought her a couple and one thing led to another and we had a party back here and we ended up in bed.  I'm sorry!"

 

Mary-Ellen nodded, tears flowing from her eyes.  "So that's what you're doing while you're writing letters to me about how much you miss me and you love me," she said quietly. "You're just as full of it as you always were, Slappy.  Stine said you've changed, but you haven't changed a bit."

 

Slappy looked at her hurt.  "Baby--"

 

"No, I get it.  You're away from home, you haven't gotten laid in five months, I get it."    

 

He looked down and approached her, getting on his knees (not like it mattered; even on his knees, they were the same height).  "Baby, I'm sorry, I was drunk and it won't happen again.  Please forgive me?" he took her hands.

 

Mary-Ellen rolled her eyes and shook her head.  "Let's just go to dinner."

 

They went downstairs to the fancy sushi restaurant at the hotel.  Seated diagonally from each other, a dim table lamp illuminating their faces neither of them spoke to each other.  Slappy looked at the menu, sneaking little glances at Mary-Ellen, who just stared at the table.  Finally, the waitress came over and took away the awkwardness.

 

"Can I get you anything to drink?"

 

"Uh...yeah, sure, I'll have a beer," Slappy looked at Mary-Ellen for her drink order.

 

"Just water, please..."

 

The waitress smiled and left.

 

"What's with you?  You usually drink a gin and tonic."

 

"Well thanks to you, Slappy, I'm not really in a drinking mood," she said sarcastically.

 

He sighed looking down. "Baby, it was one time, I've been faithful to you otherwise.  I've done a lot of shitty things to you, but I've never--"

 

"I'm pregnant, Slappy."

 

He stared at her.  "What?"

 

"I'm pregnant."

 

Slappy had no idea dummies could sweat before he came to Vietnam, but he was sweating now and his breathing quickened.  "How long?"

 

"Five months."

 

"Is it m--"

 

"Yes, Slappy, she's yours."

 

_A little girl.  I'm having a little girl.  I'm gonna be a papa._  

 

"When were you planning on telling me this?"

 

"I was going to, but--"

 

"WHEN???"  Everyone in the restaurant looked at them.  Mary-Ellen flinched; she hated when Slappy raised his voice.

 

"You left...I started getting sick a week after you left.  Hannah took me to the doctor and we found out..."

 

Slappy closed his eyes.  The morning he left...

 

"But how??  We had sex for like ten minutes that morning!"

 

"Ten minutes is all it takes, Slappy," Mary-Ellen said quietly.

 

They both looked down.  "If you want, when I get home, I can ab--"

 

She couldn't finish because she was flinching at Slappy grabbing his knife.  "DON'T say that word.  Do NOT say that word."

 

She didn't care that they were in a restaurant.  If he wanted to play this game, she could play it right back. "She's in MY body and YOU cheated on me!  I don't think you have a right to tell me what do with MY body."

 

Slappy looked at her incredulously. "I'm her _FATHER!_ You can't just murder my child without telling me and you CERTAINLY can't keep this from me!"

 

She stared at the table, fuming.

 

"I mean, what were you gonna do if I got killed?  Tell our daughter that you kept her birth from her dead father?"

 

"No, I just..."

 

"Hannah shoved feminism up your ass, too?  What, you two burn bras together?"

 

"We don't burn bras, Slappy.  Those are the radicals.  And stop being sexist."

 

"I'm sexist because I want to be a part of my child's life.  Fantastic."

 

"No, you're sexist because you're telling a woman what to do with her body!"

 

Slappy threw his hands up.  "Fine.  We're gonna go around in circles.  So what do you wanna do now?"

 

"Well, if you really love me and don't plan to cheat on me again, I want a ring on my finger."

 

Slappy raised his eyebrows at her.  "You want a ring on your finger?  On an enlisted man's salary, you want a $1200 ring on your finger.  Are you kidding me?"

 

"If you care about me and our family as much as you say you do, you'll put a ring on my finger."

 

"Jesus Christ, Mary-Ellen, enough of your goddamned ultimatums.  And you're a feminist now, why do you wanna get married?"

 

Mary-Ellen stared at him in awe, not believing what she was hearing.  She threw her napkin down and got up.  "We're done.  I'm going home."

 

"No you're not.  You're coming to the USO dance with me."

 

"Stop TELLING me what to do, Slappy!"  She went back up to the room and he followed briskly after her.  She got to the door and moaned when she realized she didn't have the key.  She saw Slappy storming towards her and fumbled with the lock, but he approached her in a second and grabbed her arms shaking her.  He had rage in his eyes, but they grew wide when he saw how fearful hers were.  Slappy was many things, but he _wasn't_ a woman-beater.

 

"Um..." he cleared his throat.  They stared at each other for a bit before he hugged her, green tears flowing from his eyes. "I'm sorry..."

 

"Me too...I do want you to be a daddy..."

 

"I wanna be one..."

 

He kissed her hair and she cupped his cheek.  "Wanna go to the dance?"  He smiled and nodded.

 

The dance was downstairs in the hotel ballroom.  All the soldiers were in their uniforms.  Some had girls, some were going stag.  It wasn't just the Army; some Navy and Coast Guard men were there as well.  Mary-Ellen and Slappy walked in.

 

"Wow, this is groovy!" Mary-Ellen smiled as she led Slappy to the dance floor.  They danced all night with Scooter, Jerry, Pete and the other men, sometimes by themselves.  Of course, Slappy had a bit to drink.  By the end of the night, they were the last ones on the floor slow dancing.  The lights had gone down and everyone had left.  They danced right under the last remaining light to Earth Angel by Johnny Maestro and The Crests.  It had always been their song.  Mary-Ellen smiled, her head resting against Slappy's chest and his cheek rested against her hair, both their eyes closed.  They both felt like they were at one of the dances Zach and Hannah would invite them to at Madison High.  The music was low, but to them, it was at full volume.  When Johnny sang,

 

_"I'm just a fool, a fool in love, with you..."_

 

They both looked at each other and Slappy murmured, "Mar, I'm just a fool in love with you..."  


 

"Kiss me..."

 

He pressed his lips to hers as they swayed.  

 

_ "Earth Angel, the one I adore/love you forever and ever more..." _

 

She looked into his chocolate eyes and he looked into her sapphire eyes.  They both knew it was time to go.  


 

Back in his room, their bodies wrapped around each other like they'd been when she first got there, their lips glued to each other.  He had used his powers to light candles all around the room.  While Scooter was banging his girl in the next room, they were being romantic and blocking out the moaning.

 

"You know, I have powers too," Mary-Ellen bit her lip and narrowed her eyes and rose petals appeared on the bed.  Slappy raised his eyebrows and nodded.

 

"Nice touch."  They smiled and kissed again slowly falling onto the bed.

 

"I love you...I don't wanna hurt you..."

 

"Promise?"

 

"You know I do."

 

Their tongues locked in a fiery dance as he reached behind her to unzip her dress.

 

"You looked beautiful tonight, darlin..." 

 

Mary-Ellen's heart melted; she was such a sucker for when he said "darlin" like that.  She loosened his tie and took off his suit jacket and sighed as he kissed her neck.  He knew every crevice and curve of her body and it wasn't because of his powers.  

 

Two wine glasses sat on the nightstand as they made love, but this time, one was Mary-Ellen's.

 

 

 

 


	7. You're My Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slappy and the men return to war earlier than expected. Here, the real horror of war sets in.

Mary-Ellen stirred and looked at her wooden boyfriend.  Slappy slept in his usual way: head stuffed into the pillow, snoring.  She silently giggled; it reminded her of a teenage boy.

Her smile quickly turned to a frown, however, as she remembered that it was her last day here.  Despite the amazing night that they had last night, she felt unfulfilled, especially after his reaction to her news and their fight last night before the dance.  Mary-Ellen knew that Slappy had it in him to be a great dad, but feared the addition of a child would only make their fights increase. She sighed and put her hands on her stomach.  She looked down and felt a wooden hand on top of her plastic ones.

“When does she start kicking?”

Mary-Ellen couldn’t help but smile.  “She started kicking a few weeks ago!”

She turned to look at Slappy.  A grin spread across his thin red lips.  She rested back on the pillow and cuddled up next to him.

“What time’s your flight home?” Slappy mumbled, his eyes closed.

“Not till later this afternoon…” she rubbed his stomach.

“Mmmm good…breakfast…”  Mary-Ellen giggled.

Slappy opened his eyes to look at her.  Mary-Ellen looked at him.

“So what do we do when I get home?” He looked at her with soft chocolate brown eyes.

Mary-Ellen looked at him, almost stunned that he asked. “Well, we’ll have to be parents…”

“I’ll put a ring on your finger,” he said determined.

Her eyes widened. “What…?  Slappy, I didn’t mean anything I said about marriage last night.  You know, it’s not the 50s anymore, a lot of people are having babies without getting married.  You know about Dennis and the kid he has with—“

“I wanna marry you, Mary-Ellen,” Slappy looked at her, his brown eyes darker than usual, which told her he meant what he said.  But she still doubted him.

“That’s what you said before you left, Slappy.  And look at what happened yesterday.”

Slappy looked down for a minute, then back at her. “And we worked it out.  Mary-Ellen, I know I’ve had cold feet but... I look at what Hannah and Zach have, or even Papa and Lorraine and I realized I want that with you.”

Mary-Ellen smiled. “What about the place Papa got you and Wally?”

He shrugged.  “I’ll move out.  We’ll get a pad together.”

“And all those Playboys you boys have?”

“Wally won’t let me read them anyway.”

Mary-Ellen laughed. 

“Plus I’m in the military so you get great insurance benefits if you marry me.”

Mary-Ellen threw her head back and laughed.  She had missed his sense of humor. “Because I’m definitely in it for the insurance.” She leaned over and kissed him softly, her tongue working with his.

“Mm...c'mon, darling, let’s go get breakfast.”

She pouted.  “Can’t we stay in bed till I have to go…”

“When I get home, there’ll be plenty of time for that.  And you won’t have to go anywhere.”

He winked and she smiled.  They got dressed and went downstairs to the restaurant.  They were chatting and laughing and making plans for his return (Slappy even kissed her hand) when a major walked up to their table briskly.

“Private Stine?”

Slappy quickly got up and saluted. “Sir.”

“At ease, son.  Your unit has orders to return to your base early, in about 1800 hours.”  The officer handed Slappy a letter and left. Slappy looked down at it and opened it, sinking into his chair as he read.  Mary-Ellen searched his face.

“Darling, what’s wrong?”

Slappy stared at the table fearful.  “I have to go back early…”

Mary-Ellen looked down. “Oh…” She peered at the letter. “Well it’s not for 18 hours!  We can go to the airport together!” She smiled to try and cheer him up.

“1800 in military time is six, dear,” Slappy said gravely. “I gotta go back with my unit anyway.”

“Oh…”

They went back upstairs and Mary-Ellen sat on the bed that they had shared so much happiness in last night and watched him pack.  Neither of them said a word, him filled with dread, her filled with sadness, fear and worry for their baby. She put a hand on her stomach and felt their little girl kick.  He stopped packing and saw her and scooted over a bit and knelt in front of her (even though height-wise, he didn’t have to), his wooden hand once again joining her plastic one.

“Do we know if it’s gonna be a doll or a dummy?” He nervously chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.  Mary-Ellen smiled slightly.

“There’s a difference?”

“You ain’t made of wood, are ya?”

“True.”

They both looked at her stomach, Slappy realizing that he probably wouldn’t be home for his first child’s birth.  Thanks to her powers, she heard his thoughts and began to cry.  Slappy knew he should be the man and comfort her, but he couldn’t help it.  Green tears ran down his face as their foreheads pressed together, both of them crying silently. They were uninterrupted in their grief until Slappy felt a gentle kick against his hand.  He looked at Mary-Ellen’s stomach and laughed through tears.

“Hey, don’t kick your papa!”

Mary-Ellen giggled.

Scooter, Pete and Jerry got ready and joined them and they all took a cab to the airport.  The rest of the men waited at the escalator while Slappy said goodbye to Mary-Ellen one last time, kissing her deeply with his hand on her stomach.

“Let me know how she’s doing.  Every day.”

Mary-Ellen nodded.  “I will...oh, Slappy, I wish there was a way to use our powers to communicate faster than letters…”

“Me too...maybe ask Papa to write it into our characters with his typewriter?”

Mary-Ellen smiled and nodded.  Slappy put a hand on her face, gently nicking her and said in his best Humphrey Bogart impression,

“Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.” He winked and made a clicking noise with his mouth.  Mary-Ellen melted and kissed him one last time.

“I love you…”

Slappy nodded.  Mary-Ellen understood; Slappy wasn’t a fan of saying things back.

“Be safe getting home.”

Mary-Ellen nodded.  “Just be safe.”

“I will.  I promise.  I’m a papa now!” He smiled and joined the men.  They got on the escalator and Slappy turned around and held up a hand and looked at her with big, sad eyes.  Mary-Ellen copied the action. They both looked at each other until he was out of sight.

“That was an emotional goodbye,” Jerry pointed out.

“Well, fellas...I’m gonna be a papa,” Slappy smiled proudly.

They all smiled and clapped him on the back.  “That’s groovy, man!  Congratulations!”

“Means ya gotta stay alive…” Scooter said gravely.  Slappy nodded and looked at him. The two men—Slappy knew they didn’t see him as an evil dummy anymore, they saw him as a man just trying to get through the war like the rest of them—looked into each other’s eyes knowingly and shook hands, making a silent agreement that they’d have each other’s backs.  Slappy looked at Scooter as his best friend, something he'd never had before, besides Stine.  He liked the feeling and he liked Scooter.  When the two were shaking hands, he made a silent vow to himself never to lose him.  


—

It was hard for Slappy to believe that just five weeks ago, he had been in the airport in Tokyo saying goodbye to Mary-Ellen and his yet-to-be-born daughter.  He felt content after seeing her, but still lay wide awake, back in his uncomfortable little cot listening to Scooter snore a few feet away. He knew it wasn’t right to be mad at the Army, but Slappy being the vengeful little rodent he was, felt like screaming at them.  How dare they take away time he was spending with his girl and their daughter! But then he thought of Stine. Slappy was here for a purpose and for once in his life, he had a job, an actual job and a purpose. He also had a girl and a child. And a father, a sister, a brother, a soon-to-be brother-in-law...

_ I have a family. _

He could finally close his eyes and sleep well alone; he'd found what he was searching for all along.  He was snapped out of his epiphany by Scooter groaning.

"Nnnnn Slaps, you gonna turn that light out, boy?"

"Oh yeah, was just about to.  Sorry, man."

"Nah man, I get it," Scooter yawned.  "thinkin' about shit..."

Slappy chuckled and shook his head.  Scooter was a card. But at the same time, he  _ was _ thinking about a lot.

"Thinkin' about if I'll ever get to see my little girl..." he looked at the ground.

Scooter rested on his elbow and turned to look at him.

"You got a family, Scooter?"

"A momma.  No old man, though, he left and my momma wants nothin' to do with him."

"Kids?"

"A boy and a girl."

"How old?"

Scooter rolled his eyes back thinking.  "They was born in '65...they should be about four by now."

"You um...with the mama?"

"Nah...we tried, but...she don't wanna be a momma.  I take care of them kids when I'm home. My momma and brothers and sisters help."

Slappy nodded glumly.

"Slappy?"

"Yeah?"

"What's...being in a book like?"

Slappy was stunned; no stranger had asked him that before.  He had to think about his answer, but he finally came up with it.  "It's like...looking up at a piece of paper with words. And it's really dark.  My friends--the monsters--were in there with me, but...we just couldn't do much."

Scooter leaned in, interested.  "That thing last year...the thing where everyone says you destroyed a town...what happened?"

Slappy took a deep breath. "One of my sister Hannah's friends--her fiancé now,  I guess--let me out of my book.  I wasn't gonna do anything, but...I guess I'm like HAL from  _ 2001, _ ya know?  I'm programmed...or written, I guess...to do bad stuff.  I...Papa betrayed me..."

"...by keepin' you in the book?"

Slappy nodded. "We were best friends.  I helped beat up all the kids that used to tease him.  Then Papa said I started taking it too far and...he put me back in the book."

Slappy shifted in his cot and looked at the ceiling.  "A year ago, when I came out, I wanted revenge. I wasn't...I don't think like I do now.  Being here...seeing what war is and what it can do to people...I mean, it's basically what I did.  Started a war."

Scooter remained silent, listening.

"Before I left, Papa asked me how I did was any different from war and I tried to fight him on it, but...he was right.  He's always been right."

"And...Mary-Ellen's from..."

"Bride of the Living Dummy," Slappy nodded.

"Yo' old man write you any brothers or sisters?"

"Just Wally.  We live together.  After nearly killing each other, as we do," Slappy chuckled.

Scooter looked at the ceiling, reclining on his cot. "I wish I could live in a book."

Slappy stared at him, disgusted. "Why?"

Scooter's tone suddenly changed. "Because you don't know what it's like to deal with being called a n***** and a c**n every damn day.  You don't know what it was like to go outside when Dr. King was fightin' for us to get the same rights as y'all white people.  My best friends was being sprayed with water and beaten while you was in that book, man!"

Upon hearing "y'all white people," Slappy stared at the ceiling as yet another realization dawned on him like a dead weight.  Slappy had never been one for debating politics.  Hell, he was in a book while the civil rights movement was happening and during Dr. King's March on Washington.  Of course, he had heard about all of these from Stine and Hannah when he came out, which, ironically, happened just after Dr. King was assassinated.  While other people sat around hashing this stuff out, he was busy plotting revenge on Stine and how to destroy towns and make kids scream and fear him.  

He'd also never thought of himself as belonging to a race other than dummy.  In his circle of friends in his unit, Slappy, Jerry, Pete and the majority of the men were white.  Scooter was the only black man in their unit.  He kept talking.

"You was there when that white boy called me a n*****.  Yeah you stood up for me, but did you know what you was doing?"

"My papa may have written me without morals, but I know racism's never right and I always stick up for my friends."

Scooter looked up at him and closed his eyes. "Slapstick, I'm sorry, man..."

"Don't apologize.  You have every right to be mad," Slappy looked down. "people are trash.  I know all about that.  People let you down.  People double-cross you.  You can't trust no one."

Scooter looked up at him. "I trust you..."

Slappy looked at him. "How do you know you can?  How do you know I won't do the same shit to you like I did to Papa and Hannah and Zach?"

Scooter sighed. "I don't.  But...you the only one here who gives half a shit about me.  You're my best friend."

Slappy's head shot up after hearing that.  _You're my best friend._   The words were like music, or a new sound he'd never heard before.  It was a title he didn't take lightly.  He smiled proudly.

"If you're my best friend, you'll let me get some damn sleep."

Scooter burst out laughing.  "THAT'S why you're my best friend, man!  Night, Slaps."

"Night, Scoots." He turned out the light. "Hey."

Scooter poked his head out.  Slappy could see his bright brown eyes in the distance.  "You're my best friend too.  If anyone messes with you, you come to me, capiche?"

Scooter laughed. "'Capiche' white boy.  Seriously, I got it."

Slappy smiled and tried to sleep. "Slaps?"

"Yeah?"

"You think Mick Jagger's gay?"

Slappy snorted. "It's pretty obvious, innit?  They're all gay.  Jagger, Morrison...even Wally's boy Jimi."

"Hendrix?!?  Nahhh, he ain't gay. No way."

"I don't know man, you know these flower child types."

"Hey man, I thought you wanted to sleep?"

Slappy laughed. "You right, brother.  We'll talk more on patrol tomorrow.  For the record, Paul McCartney is DEFINITELY gay and I don't have the heart to tell Hannah."

Scooter laughed. "You got that right!"

The men settled down to sleep.  An hour passed, Slappy having the best sleep since he got to Vietnam, when the two were awoken by a huge explosion.

"JESUS CHRIST!"

Slappy and Scooter jumped out of bed, still in boxers and their undershirts, and quickly got into their combat fatigues and helmets and assembled their guns and ran outside.  Men were running away from grenades being lobbed at the base destroying a few tents.  Slappy and Scooter joined up with Pete and the three ran to join the rest of the men in cover.

"Some wake up call, eh, Slaps?"

"Of course it had to happen the first night I get some damned sleep here!"

They get into position and start shooting.  The moon was their only light, just barely illuminating the Vietcong soldiers across the familiar clearing.  

"Bastards better be making us coffee after waking us up this early!" Slappy shouted as he fired.

"Slaps, in front of you!"

A Vietcong soldier was rushing towards Slappy firing.  Slappy aimed at his face and shot him square in the mouth.  The soldier fell to the ground, blood oozing out of his mouth like a sewer.  Slappy was only taken aback for a moment; by now, he'd gotten used to senseless violence.  The men looked up to hear the whirring engines of the North Vietnamese Air Force above them.

"Fuck, they have air support...who's got a flamethrower?"

"Sarge, that won't do shit!" a soldier shouted.

"FLAMETHROWERS!  NOW!" The flamethrowers unleashed fire on the aircraft, but it was no use; the planes were packed with heavy machine guns and bombs.  A heavy bomber dropped a multitude of bombs in the clearing just as some Americans ran out, sending them flying to their deaths.  Slappy threw a grenade and picked some charging Vietcong off.  

"COVER ME, I'M RELOADING!"

Slappy took cover and reloaded.  Scooter looked at him. "What we gonna do, man?"

"Just keep shooting, man!  That's all I know!" he panted.  Scooter nodded and kept shooting.  Slappy rejoined him firing away.  All of a sudden, Scooter was shooting when two bullets hit him, one square in the heart and the other in the stomach.  He collapsed, lying against the makeshift dirt wall.

"NO!!" Slappy shouted and ducked, taking cover and holding Scooter in his arms.  Scooter panted, sweating, his eyelids drooping.  

_ No...no...I can't lose him...I can't fucking lose him... _

Scooter's lower lip started to tremble as blood slowly poured out of his stomach and heart.  Slappy didn't care who saw; green tears flowed from his eyes.  He only cried harder as Scooter looked up at him.  


"Hey Slappy..."

"Hey Scooter..."

"S...Slappy?"

"Yeah buddy?"

"D...do me a favor..."

"Anything, man..."

"M...my momma...go see my momma...w...when you g...get home...s...17...1768...Gilbert Street...Ch...Charleston...South Carol...ina...tell her t...to give you some grits..."

Slappy nodded through tears, making a mental note of the address. "I promise, buddy...I promise..."

"Slappy?" 

Slappy sniffed. "Yeah?"

"You're my best friend..."

And with that, his head drooped off to the side and his eyes closed.  He was dead, but Slappy didn't want to believe it and he shook him.

"Stay!  Stay!!!" but he was gone.  Gunfire and explosions raged all around him, but Slappy just cried neon green tears.  He was gone.  His best friend was gone.  He held him tightly as if praying his soul would bring him back to life, but he knew that as much as his soul was capable of, bringing back the dead wasn't one of his powers, so he hugged Scooter and dropped him.  He looked back up across the clearing and saw the Vietnamese soldier who had killed Scooter.  He was looking at Slappy with an evil grin.  Slappy, filled with a rage, let out a yell and charged across the clearing and shot him in the mouth.  The man fell to the ground, blood running out of his mouth like a snake.

"That's for my best friend, you bastard."

The other men ran across to support him, shooting and fighting hand-to-hand, but Slappy, not knowing if he was filled with his powers or rage, was singlehandedly killing all of the soldiers, but the air support was too much.

"I can't get those damn flyboys!!"

Pete and Jerry ran across the clearing just as a bomber dropped two bombs on them.

"FUCK!!" 

They were gone too.  The U.S. Air Force finally arrived and both countries rained machine gun fire on the infantrymen as more bombs and grenades exploded.

"I CAN'T SEE NOTHING!!!"

"RETREAT!!  RETREAT!!"

"Finally, those damn flyboy bastards show up!!"

"Yeah at least they got to sleep in!!"

The soldiers ran across the clearing, most of the Vietnamese retreating too, both sides content to leave it to the aviators for now.  "Slaps!!  Help me!!" It was Pete.  He was lying on the ground, his leg badly wounded in a pool of blood.  Slappy ran over to him. 

"Grab onto my back!"

"You sure you got me?"

"Don't worry about me, man!"

Pete grabbed Slappy's hands, climbing onto his back.  Slappy winced in pain; he'd never carried a human before and Pete was linebacker-heavy, but he had to get him to a M*A*S*H unit or an ambulance as soon as possible.  He hobbled after the other men, panting and out of breath, but he eventually caught up and loaded Pete onto a M*A*S*H ambulance with the rest of the wounded men.  Panting, he and Pete shook hands.

"Thanks buddy..." Pete said, woozy.

"Don't mention it," Slappy managed to get out while panting. "Get back soon, man, we need you."

Pete nodded as the ambulance drove off.  Slappy fell in line with the other men and, tired, walked back to camp, or what was left of it.  

After they had relocated to a new clearing and a new tent, Slappy lay in bed looking at Scooter's empty cot.  Even though he knew there was nothing he could do, he'd done nothing; he could've covered Scooter better, he could've shot that soldier before he shot him, but he didn't.  He was beat and still panting; his normally fine dummy hair was messy and he had cuts and dirt on his face and lips.  He closed his eyes, not wanting to look at where his best friend lay again.  Slappy had always hated when Stine had treated him like a child, but he couldn't help it; he cried.  Little green tears came out of his eyes as he sniffed.  He opened his eyes when he realized last week was Thanksgiving.  He had no idea.  Not like he had much to be grateful for now.  Using his powers, he wrote a letter home.

_ November 28, 1969 _

_ Dear everyone, _

_ I watched my best friend die today.  That's all I have to say. _

_ Slaps _

_ P.S.  Happy Thanksgiving.  I don't have much to be thankful for. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you guys be okay if I did a cute 60s meet-cute flashback for Slappy and Mary-Ellen? Or would you not be okay with it since it's not in the books? Let me know! Also I'm wicked sorry about not updating sooner; I'm without a computer at the moment and just now got downstairs to the computer lab at my place to update. Enjoy!!


	8. O Tannenbaum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Christmas wartime miracle ends in New Years heartbreak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Christmas event that happens in this chapter was based on a story my priest told us during his homily at Christmas Eve mass a few years ago. During World War I on Christmas Eve, American and German soldiers faced each other in the trenches. A German soldier placed a small Christmas tree out for all to see.
> 
> Note: since TV!Slappy had orange hair, I always think of him as Wally and movie!Slappy as Slappy obviously. So for the purposes of this fic, imagine Wally to look like TV!Slappy, only with the jeans, sneakers and plaid shirt and messy hair. :)
> 
> ALSO again: wicked sorry for the time between updates. I still haven't gotten a new computer, but I did want to get this up before I left on vacation. Enjoy!!!

Christmas snuck up quickly and quietly.  Slappy always hated the end of the year, but he hated it even more now that he was being shot at daily.  On Christmas morning, he stayed in his cot, staring blankly at the men exchanging gifts and showing off what they received from home.  It helped that it didn’t feel like Christmas, or maybe it didn’t help; it was hot and humid, not a snowflake in sight. 

 

He never thought he’d think this in his life, but he wanted to be home, surrounded by Stine, Lorraine, Hannah, Champ and his family, Zach and his mom and maybe Wally and Mary-Ellen, around the big Christmas tree that they always decorated.  He'd watched them decorate it from the book last year.  They’d gather around it on Christmas morning and open presents. Afterwards, they’d have a giant Christmas dinner. Slappy’s mouth watered tasting Lorraine’s bread pudding, could almost smell Stine baking the Christmas ham…

 

“Slappy!  Heeeey, Slappy!”

 

Slappy was shaken from his tantalizing food dream by Billy the mailman, a freckle-faced corporal of about 18 with curly blonde hair.  Slappy sat up as Billy tossed him a package wrapped in brown paper with string for a bow, which he caught.

 

“Package from home, man.  Merry Christmas.”

 

“Thanks Billy.  Merry Christmas.”

 

Slappy looked down at the package, but still felt Billy standing by the entrance to the tent, studying him.

 

“Hey, are you feeling okay?”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine, just missin’ home, ya know?” Slappy smiled wistfully.

 

“Yeah, I get it.  Well, Merry Christmas!”

 

“Merry Christmas…” Slappy watched him leave and opened the box.  It was from Stine, Hannah, Zach, his mom and Lorraine. He burst out laughing when he saw a package of chocolate cigars with a note attached.

 

_ Dear Slappy, I know you can’t really smoke because of what you’re uh...made of and I’m sure you’re just dying for a drag considering the situation you’re in, so use these to scratch the itch! Merry Christmas. -H _

 

“Han…” Slappy chuckled and shook his head. “That’s a good one, sis!”

 

He set the cigars aside and looked at the rest of the contents of the package.  Inside was a small plastic package with a little menorah, candles and a dreidel with dreidel game instructions with another note, this time from Stine.

 

_ Slappy— _

 

_ I know you’ve always been more of a Christmas guy and I wrote you as pretty much an atheist, but I thought you might like to celebrate like your papa.  Hanukkah’s over but maybe next year.  _

 

_ Merry Christmas/Happy Hanukkah, _

 

_ Love, _

_ Papa _

 

Slappy studied the menorah inquisitively.  He shrugged and set it aside and took out the dreidel and read the instructions.  He spun it around a few times, not really playing the game, just spinning for fun.  He looked at Scooter’s empty cot.

 

“Merry Christmas, bud.  Wish you were here,” he sighed and looked up as he heard the Catholics that were in the mess tent for Christmas Day mass with Father Donovan singing The First Noel.  He smiled, suddenly getting into the Christmas spirit. Slappy mouthed a few of the words.

 

_ “The first Noel, the angel did say, was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay...in fields where they were keeping their sheep on a cold winter’s night that was so deep.  Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel. Born is the king of Israel…” _

 

Slappy was getting sick of it happening, but he couldn’t help it.  A green tear rolled down his cheek. Stine hadn’t written him as religious at all—or if he had, Slappy was for sure going to Hell—but for the past couple of weeks, Pete had been talking up midnight mass at his hometown church in New Jersey on Christmas Eve and coming in and out of church with snow falling.  It made Slappy really want to go to church, even if he didn’t know if he believed in God or not. 

 

He got up and dressed and made his way to the mess tent just as the makeshift choir started singing Hark the Herald Angels Sing.  Slappy found Jerry, who was singing and stood next to him. The two men smiled at each other as Slappy joined in singing. He knew all the words, of course, thanks to his powers, but also thanks to singing Christmas carols with Hannah back home.

 

_ “Hark the herald angels sing, _

_ Glory to the newborn king! _

_ Peace on Earth and mercy mild, _

_ God and sinners reconciled. _

 

_ Joyful all ye nations rise! _

_ Join the triumph of the skies! _

_ With the angelic hosts proclaim, _

_ Christ is born in Bethlehem! _

_ Hark the herald angels sing, _

_ Glory to the newborn king!” _

 

Slappy choked back a green tear as memories of home and Christmas warmth flooded him.  The feeling was all new to him, but he embraced it. 

 

The company continued singing, the song ended and mass continued.  Slappy listened inquisitively to the story of the first Christmas in awe; did all of that really happen?  With the angel, wrapping the baby Jesus in swaddling clothes and everything?

 

After mass, everyone helped Father Donovan put the wooden benches back with the chairs and the cooks got together and whipped up an incredible Christmas dinner with the food shipped to them from HQ, complete with ham, turkey, pudding, corn, mashed potatoes and roast beef.  Slappy looked at the food hungrily, eager to eat, but Father Donovan held up his hands in prayer and all the men grew silent and clasped their hands. The Catholics crossed themselves as the young priest began,

 

“Lord, thank you for this food.  Thank you for our lives. Thank you for allowing us to spend Christmas with our little family here, but may we back home with our real families by the time next Christmas comes.”

 

No one was offended; everyone knew what he meant by their real families.  They all wanted them. A somber “Amen” was mumbled throughout the tent. Everyone ate quietly at first, but conversation picked up eventually, with the men swapping stories of Christmases back home.

 

That night, Christmas was over and they were back on patrols.  Sergeant Morris said it himself: “the Commies don’t celebrate Christmas.”  Slappy sat in his spot in the trench waiting, but his mind started to wander.  It was around 6:00. This time last year on Christmas Eve, he was still in the book.  Christmas seemed so...foreign to him and the monsters. Joy? Happiness? Good will toward men?  That wasn’t them. Christmas was just another day. He forgot how he had spent it; probably plotting revenge on Stine.  Actually, he was sure he was doing that; the wounds were still fresh last December.

 

Slappy was jolted out of his thoughts by the men readying their machine guns.  He looked across the clearing at a band of Vietnamese soldiers who had just appeared and readied his gun too.  The Vietnamese soldiers did nothing. Slappy lowered his gun and hissed under his breath so Sergeant Morris didn’t hear,

 

“Wait, don’t shoot!”

 

Slappy and a young Vietnamese soldier locked eyes.  The soldier looked sad, with short black hair and big brown eyes, similar to Slappy’s.  The soldier reached behind him and Slappy quickly got his gun ready, but what the soldier pulled out wasn’t a weapon; it was a tiny Christmas tree with white lights.  Sergeant Morris got up.

 

“Someone flag that thing for a bomb!”

 

“Christ, Sarge, will you just relax?” a soldier shouted.

 

The Vietnamese soldier smiled and even in the moonlight, Slappy could read his lips as he began to quietly sing,

 

_ “O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum…” _

 

The soldier stopped and looked at Slappy.  From the look on his face, Slappy could tell he didn’t know the rest of the words.  Slappy smiled widely and finished the song for him quietly, though he was sure the soldier could hear him.  He knew the German version thanks to Stine; though the writer was Jewish, he knew the song thanks to his German roots.  Besides, it was a staple in the Charlie Brown Christmas special that Slappy and Hannah loved watching every year.

 

_ “...wie treu sind deine Blätter _

_ Du grünst nicht nur zur Sommerzeit _

_ Nein auch im Winter, wenn es schneit _

_ O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum _

_ wie treu sind deine Blätter…” _

 

Slappy and the soldier smiled at each other as the men stared on in awe, eventually smiling at the other Vietnamese soldiers.  They were connected, even in war, even in difference of nationality, language, religion. There could be gunfire and bodies dropping everywhere else around the country, but here, they found peace.  They found Christmas where the world said you couldn’t find it.

 

“Look…” Jerry whispered.  The men looked across the clearing as the most miraculous thing happened:  one by one, the Vietnamese soldiers retreated. The Christmas tree stayed in the middle of the clearing as the soldiers left.  But Slappy stayed for a while and stared with wonder at its twinkling white lights. It made him miss home terribly, but he couldn’t cry; he was filled with a strange sense of happiness and a feeling he'd never felt before:  comfort.  He was away from home, at war, but at peace all the same. He went back to his tent, got some stationery and went back to the clearing. The tree was still there.  Using his powers, he began to write.

 

_ December 25, 1969 _

 

_ Dear everyone— _

 

_ You won’t believe what happened tonight.  We had to do our usual patrols and we were waiting when these commies showed up. Of course, we got ready to fight but...something was different.  They didn’t start shooting at us or anything. We just...looked at each other. Then one of em put out this tree. This little Christmas tree with little white lights like Lorraine uses, Papa.  Then I guess the guy that put it out knew O Tannenbaum, so he started to sing it and then I sang the rest of it like you taught me, Papa.  It was wild; there's a war going on, but we were able to find peace in that one moment.  I felt something I don't think I was written to feel...comfort?  I just felt like I was home with you guys around the tree that I saw you decorate last year that I couldn't be a part of because I fucked up. _

_ Anyway, I got your presents.  Loved the cigars, Han.  Will definitely be using them to scratch a LOT of itches.  Papa...what is that thing you gave me?  I got my official Army picture taken while I was on R&R so I'm sending those your way.  Put em on the mantelpiece or something.  Lorraine'll find something to do with em, I'm sure. _

_ Merry Christmas and Slappy New Year.  I know you're all sick of me lying and making broken promises, so I'll just say that hopefully I'm home by this time next year. _

_ Slaps _

 

Slappy laid awake that night, still stunned by the night's events.  He could see the light of the tree in the distance.  He didn't know such warmth, kindness and peace were possible from humans, let alone from a nationality of people who traditionally didn't celebrate Christmas.  He was reminded of that first day out on patrols over the summer where he had seen the sun rising over the palm trees.  Beauty could be found even in wartime.  The same could be said for peace, good will and remembering the reason for the Christmas season.  He hadn't had any of Lorraine's pudding or any of Stine's Christmas ham, but he went to bed comfortably as if he was sated.  


A week went by without any fighting, at least for Slappy's unit.  New Year's Eve came and Slappy was melancholy again, lying awake in the early morning staring at the ceiling of his tent, remembering where he was last New Year's Eve.

**_(FLASHBACK - New Year's Eve, 1968)_ **

_ Deciding to make the most of their failure to destroy Madison (and to avoid ripping Slappy to shreds) the monsters decided to throw their own New Year's Eve party in the book.  They weren't going to invite Slappy, still hating him for his failure, but Wally and Mary-Ellen begged them to include him.  They all gathered, drinks were flowing, loud music was playing and everyone was in high spirits despite what had happened two months earlier.  Slappy sat at the bar alone, staring into his drink.  Wally came up to him with a party hat on and slapped him on the shoulder. _

_ "Hey man!  Come on!  This party's a gas!  What are ya doin'?" _

_ "Don't feel like partying, Wally." _

_ "Not even if...Mary-Ellen's here?" _

_ Slappy looked at him.  "She's here?" _

_ "Yeah, she convinced the monsters to invite you!  Look!" He pointed to Mary-Ellen, standing in a corner with a drink talking to the mummy.  Slappy looked back down into his drink. _

_ "I can't, man..." _

_ "Fine.  If you don't sleep with her, I will!" Wally laughed and walked away as Slappy looked at him appalled.  He looked at Mary-Ellen longingly from a distance.  He DID like her, he just had no clue how to talk to her.  Plus, he wasn't sure if she knew about the events of two months ago.  He finished his beer and ordered another mug from the old ugly vampire when a female voice was in his ear. _

_ "Hey Slappy." _

_ He looked to his right and there was Mary-Ellen.  "Oh...hi." _

_ They looked around in silence awkwardly before she spoke again. _

_ "It's...five minutes to midnight." _

_ "Sure is," he said without looking at her.   _

_ "Uh...do you...wanna come outside?" _

_ Slappy figured it couldn't hurt and followed her outside into the darkness of the pages of the book.  Stine had made it cold to reflect the weather outside in his world, so they bundled up in their coats and gloves and hats.  Stine watched them interact from above and, smirking, typed in "Slappy and Mary-Ellen stood under the mistletoe."  Suddenly, a mistletoe appeared over them.  Slappy looked up the page angrily. _

_ "Are you kidding me?" _

_ Mary-Ellen giggled.  "I guess we...have to kiss..." _

_ Slappy sighed and leaned in slowly.  The minute their lips touched, the clock struck 12 and the werewolf lit off fireworks and everyone shouted "HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!"  as confetti flew.  It was their first kiss. _

_ **(END OF FLASHBACK)** _

Slappy finished his daydream and got up and reread Mary-Ellen's letter again.

 

_ December 28, 1969 _

_ Dear Slappy: _

_ We got your Army pictures.  You look so handsome!!  I asked Papa to let me keep the one where you're not wearing your cap.  You look much better without it!!  Papa keeps the one with you in your cap on his desk while he writes.  Hannah keeps one in her room.  They're so proud of you, Slappy.  We all are.  
_

_ We had a nice Christmas.  Papa let me and Wally out to spend it with everyone.  But now it's New Year's and I'm missing you even more than I did at Christmas.  Slappy, I miss you so much.  I miss cuddling with you in your car, I miss when you would take me to the movies and make out.  You'd always take me to scary movies so I'd jump into your arms.  You little devil! _

_ Our first kiss was on New Year's Eve, I hope you know that.   _

_ I miss you.  Come home to me.  The baby is fine, Dr. Hudson says I'm right on schedule.  She should be due in March.  I was thinking of names.  How about Annabelle?     _

_ Love,  
Mary-Ellen _

 

"Annabelle..." Slappy said to himself.  He had no time to decide whether it was a good name or not because at the very moment he looked up, the camp shook with bomb and grenade blasts.  Slappy, now a veteran at this, jumped up and got his machine gun and fatigues on and ran outside and joined Jerry.  


"Great way to start off the new year, eh, Slaps?"

"These assholes sure know how to pick em!  I like the schedule they got!" Slappy shouted sarcastically as they got into position in their usual trenches in the clearing.

They fired away, but this time, the Vietnamese brought the works; air support, infantry support and tank support.  The Americans were outnumbered.

"THIS ISN'T GONNA WORK!  SPREAD OUT!!  TAKE COVER!!!" Sergeant Morris shouted.

Slappy was about to climb up a tree when Sergeant Morris stopped him.

"Stine, we're calling in direct fire combat.  When the tank comes, YOU get in!!"

Slappy stared at him. "Sir, I...I've never driven a tank in combat before..."

"But you've driven a tank, ain't ya?  You can do this, Stine and you WILL do it!" He clapped a hand on his shoulder and smiled.  Slappy looked up at him and smiled and nodded confidently.  

"For now, use your size and get up in that tree and provide sniper support!"

"Yes sir!"

Climbing up the palm tree proved to be a lot more difficult than expected; Slappy was half trying to climb and half trying to avoid the bullets that were headed his way.  The Vietcong had seen him start his ascent; he was too slow.  The edges of the bullets lightly grazed his fingers and by the time he got to the leaves, green blood was oozing gently out of his fingers.  There was no time to worry about that now.  He readied his M21 sniper rifle and took aim, picking off the enemy.  Eventually, the tank rolled in and Slappy climbed up and in.  The driver, a corporal, looked disturbed at the little dummy who had just landed inside the small, cramped tank.

"Wh...who are you??"

"I have orders to commandeer this tank!"

"But...but you can't...have you ever driven a tank??"

"I've had training!"

Sergeant Morris' voice came over his walkie. "Stine, are you in there?"

"Ready to rock 'n' roll, Sarge!"

"Good!  Flank us on the left!"

"Copy!"

Slappy drove the tank to the left and parked in a wide enough area with view of both sides.

"Slaps, buddy, you got those missiles loaded up?"  Jerry's voice came over the radio.

"Loadin' em up now!" He and the corporal nodded at each other and loaded a missile into the firing hold.  

"On 3?"

"On 3.  1...2..."

Slappy pressed the fire button and the missile sent a ton of Vietcong flying.  Slappy had been at war for almost a year, but the sight still shocked him.

"Holy fuck..."

"No time to be stunned, brother!  Load another one!"  They loaded another missile and fired as more Vietcong kept coming, along with tanks.  They kept firing missiles at will when suddenly, an enemy tank fired a missile that hit Slappy and the corporal's tank dead on.  Smoke and flames engulfed the cabin as they struggled to get out.

"FUCK, FUCK, GET OUT!!!"

Slappy wanted to lie on the floor and cough himself to death, but he got out as smoke and flames engulfed his tiny lungs and made him cough up a fit.  Once out, the corporal shouted at him.

"FUCKING RUN!"

They ran as far away from the burning tank as possible.  Right then, an American tank fired a missile at a Vietnamese tank.  Now there were two tanks on fire in the middle of fighting infantry units.  Slappy looked at both of them, knowing full well what was going to happen.  

"Oh shit..."

"RUN, man!!!" the corporal shouted.  Slappy broke into a run just as both tanks exploded.  An aftershock made him fall over on a hillside.  He was expecting only two explosions and raised his head slightly after them, but quickly buried it as two more followed; the explosion of the camp and the explosions of the planes that had flown into the debris.  Slappy raised his head slowly to look at the damage.  It was a stupid and random emotion to feel, he knew, but his heart broke.  The smoke started to clear and the bodies started to appear to him.  It looked like those pictures of the Civil War he looked at before he came, with bodies lying all over the place.  

Slappy walked back down the hillside slowly as if in a trance.  He began to walk amid the bodies, all the while knowing full well the irony; he had expected to be doing this after he had destroyed Madison in a much happier mood, but instead, he was looking at the bodies of his friends and fellow soldiers and commanding officer and he wasn't in a happy mood at all.  In fact, he felt like crying.  And that was exactly what he did.  Even though he hated when Stine treated him like a child, there was nothing else he could do.  He sat down on the charred ground and started to cry.

He was alone.

Again.

 


	9. Friends in Low Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slappy runs into an unlikely friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got my computer up and running!! Happy New Year!!

The brush was surprisingly thick for Vietnam.  Slappy had to cut through the leafy plants with the muzzle of his gun.  He was out of breath from climbing hills and was growing tired of the heat and dense and varying terrain.  He didn’t know what the exact time was, but could pinpoint it by looking at the color of the sky. Right now, it was blue and covered with gentle yellow clouds and tinted by a pink hue on the horizon.  The sun dipped low beneath the pink and yellow.    
  
_ Just like the sailors used to do in the olden days, _ Slappy thought.  He looked at the setting sun sadly, thinking about what he’d be doing right now if he were home.  If it were summer, he and Mary-Ellen would just be finishing a beach day and making out in the sand against the romantic sunset.  Since it was winter and the holidays, he’d just be coming in from playing in the snow with Hannah. Actually, since it was New Year’s Eve, he and Wally would be stocking up on booze for their annual huge New Year’s Eve party.

  
Slappy didn’t have any clue where he was going.  Trying to find help, maybe? He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now that his entire unit was gone.  Was he a deserter? Would he be dishonorably discharged? His mind was going a hundred miles a minute with questions, all while trying to stay alive.     
  
Night fell.  Slappy reached a little hill and sat down.  There were no enemies around, so he figured he could set his gun beside him and look around.  Below him looked like the buildings of a tiny village. They were less buildings and more huts made of sticks.  Smoke rose from one of the huts; someone was cooking something. Slappy frowned; he wondered how poor the people of that village were.  He yawned and looked around. He wanted to write a letter to Stine; he’d understand how scared he was. But having no stationery and nothing for a pillow, he rested his head on the butt of his gun and went to sleep.  Below him in the village a few hours later, he heard what sounded faintly like Auld Lang Syne in Vietnamese. 1970 had begun.   
  
“Happy New Year, Slaps,” he said to himself before closing his eyes again.   
  


—    
  


Slappy was awoken in the early morning around 7:00 with a jolt by bullets grazing the ground just barely in front of him.   
  
“Shit!” he hissed.  Grabbing his gun, he took refuge in the cover of a boulder.  He put his helmet on. Creeping out, he aimed his gun to the ledge above him but saw no one.  Shots rained back down and he immediately ran back under the boulder.    
  
“What a way to start the 70s...” he grumbled to himself.   
  
Panting, he held his gun close to him.  He carefully poked himself out and fired a few shots without looking.   
  
“Ow!  Fuck!” a timid American voice came from above.  Slappy’s eyes widened and a look of realization came upon his face.  He knew that voice.    
  
Slappy ran up an uphill dirt path and saw the soldier lying between two bushes in pain.  He ran up to him and was almost in disbelief of who he saw.    
  
“Champ?!?”    
  
The soldier panted and winced in pain, grabbing his elbow, but opened his eyes slowly, saw Slappy and immediately started backing up towards the ledge.   
  
“Oh no, fuck, not you!”   
  
“You’re gonna fall off the cliff, dumbass!” Slappy grabbed Champ’s other arm and pulled him back onto solid ground.   
  
“You  _ shot _ me, you stupid dummy!”   


“You shot AT me!”

“I-I thought you were a Charlie!”

“What Charlie do you know that’s three feet tall?”

“Sorry…” Champ looked down.   


Slappy looked at him disapprovingly.  “How the  _ hell  _ did you get drafted?”

“I-I don’t know!  One day the letter just came to my parents and—“

“Yeah yeah.  Gimme your arm.”

Champ was only wearing his vest and tank top, so Slappy got a good look at the hole in his elbow and the slow stream of blood running down his arm.  He took out some gauze from his bag and bandaged it up.   
  
“It’s just a graze, you’ll be fine.  Just don’t move it too much.”   
  
“Thanks...how long you been here?”   
  
“Since May.  You?”   
  
“Ah...” Champ winced in pain. “Little bit after you, in August.  W-what are you doing here?”   
  
“My unit got blown to smithereens...somehow I got out alive.  You?”   
  
Champ shrugged.  “Got lost on patrol.”   
  
Slappy snorted and rolled his eyes and shaking his head, stood up.  Champ stood up after him.   
  
“So what do you wanna do now?”   
  
Slappy looked out over him.  “Some view, ain’t it?”   
  
“Yeah...”   
  


Champ came up next to him and looked out over the trees.  It was a rare moment of peace for Vietnam; there was no firing for miles.  No planes roaring overhead. No explosions from tanks. No agent orange destroying the beautiful palm trees.  It was as if both sides had decided to let peace ring in the new year. A gentle breeze rustled the trees. Both men sat down and took it all in.

“Happy New Year, Slaps.”

Slappy nodded once without looking at Champ.  “Same to you, pal.”

Champ looked out over the trees forlornly. “I hope we’re home for Zach and Hannah’s wedding by the time it’s over.”

Slappy looked at the young man and then down.  “So do I, kid. So do I.”

After a day of doing their own patrolling of sorts, Slappy and Champ built a fire in another rock-formed alcove on a hill a few miles from where they had reconnected as night fell.  Champ went to go look for food and shot down a flying squirrel. He brought it back to their camp and used his pocket knife to rip a hole in its body and take out its innards to get to the meat.  Slappy watched and raised his eyebrows.

“Where’d you learn to do that?”

“My old man taught me how to hunt.”  Champ smiled proudly and held the meat up to the fire to cook.  It didn’t take very long because enough wood was around for them to build a decent fire and in 10 minutes, they were eating the tough, gamey meat.

“So do you think Hannah will stay at home and play Happy Homemaker or will she keep bein’ a go-getter?” Champ smiled jokingly.

Slappy looked at him with a judging smile on his face.  “It’s not the 30s like when Papa was growing up anymore, Champion.  Chicks can work and stuff now.”

“Hey, chicks were working in the 30s in factories too!”

“Nah, man, that was the 40s.  World War II. Chicks were secretaries in the 30s.”

They both looked at each other and chuckled.  They finished their dinner and stared into the flames, their heads filled with thoughts of what to do next.

"Slappy, I gotta tell you something,” Champ said sadly.  Slappy looked at the skinny young man, his features displaying a rare sadness; Champ was usually upbeat and funny.  War changes even the happiest people, Slappy thought.

“I didn’t get lost.”

Slappy looked at him. “What?”

“I deserted.”

An incredulous look came upon Slappy’s face. “Champ, what the hell, you could get court martialed!”

“I don’t care anymore!” Champ raised his voice, also a rarity for him. “This war’s not ending, Slaps.  Zach said in a letter that Nixon’s sending twice as many guys over as Johnson did.”

“You could die.  WE could die.”

“We’re better off dead.  Maybe Uncle Sam will stop sending boys to die if a guy three feet tall dies.”

“Hey, What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing."

A few minutes of silence passed before Slappy broke it.

“So how’d you do it?  Desert, I mean.”

Champ kept his eyes fixed on the fire.  “We were on patrol. Lieutenant told us to split up.  It was me and three other guys and originally, we were just gonna sand-bag, but one guy got the idea to desert, so we did.  We were just sick of it all.”

“Why?  What was happening?”

Champ took a deep breath.  “Guys in my unit were fragging each other.  It was getting bad. Guys I thought were my friends were losing it every day and killing my actual friends.  Morale was shit. We had to get away. We had to get out.”

Slappy looked at the fire and nodded somberly.  Champ continued.

“We were doing pretty well when we got to a jungle.  That’s where a gang of Charlies ambushed us. Both of my buds got killed, but I escaped.  I’ve just been living on squirrels and tigers till I found you.”

“Shot me, you mean.”

Champ laughed. “Yeah.  But you shot me too so we’re even.”  Both men laughed until Champ sighed. 

“There’s also no good women here.”

Slappy burst out laughing.  “I’ll say!” and kept laughing.

Champ looked at him.  “You met any good ones?”

Slappy shook his head.  “Mary-Ellen came to see me in Japan…”

“Oh, how are you two?”

Slappy took a deep breath.  “That’s the other thing I’m worried about.  I’m...Mary-Ellen is pregnant.”

Champ smiled.  “That’s groovy, man!”

Slappy shook his head staring at the flames.  “No it’s not. I don’t know the first thing about being a papa.”

“Well...how hard can it be?  Change some dirty diapers, play with the kid—“

“I mean...am I capable of loving anything, let alone a child?”

“Well...you love Mary-Ellen, right?”

“Of course…”

“Then you’re set!  Kids are a cinch! I babysit my cousins all the time and they’re easy!”

Slappy nodded, doubting him silently. “If you say so, pal.”

More silence, until Champ broke it.  “It’s getting late…”

“Yeah…uh...we’ll trade watch every four hours.  You first. Good night.” 

“Wait, but…” 

Slappy had already laid down on the butt of his gun and went to sleep.  Champ looked at him and got a harmonica out of his bag and began to play Auld Lang Syne as the fire died down and Slappy sang along quietly.

—

Champ shook Slappy awake around 10 the next morning.  

“Nnnnnnnn….nnn!  Whaat?”

“Charlies, man!  6:00 below us!”

Slappy got his gun and scurried to the edge of the cliff and sure enough, there was a line of Vietnamese soldiers marching on patrol.  Champ aimed his gun, but Slappy pressed it down.

"What are you doing??" he hissed.

"Gettin' ready to kill some commies!"

"NO, man, you can't just charge em like that!"

"So what do we do?"

Slappy looked around, his mind racing.  "Run quickly down the hill and get into position behind that shrub.  I'll cover you.  Go!"

He watched Champ run crouched down the little hill to the shrub and hide, giving the ok.  Slappy nodded and watched the enemy soldiers also stop and take various hiding places.  He slowly raised his radio to his lips.

"Champ, you copy?"

"I hear you, man."

"Okay, they're in position.  Don't make any moves yet."

"Roger!"

Champ slowly started to inch forward, alerting Slappy. "Champ, what are you doing?" he radioed.

Champ didn't answer.  He kept inching towards the nearest enemy soldier, but stepped on a small twig, sending an echoing crack that alerted the soldier.  His head darted toward Champ and the timid soldier saw his piercing yellow eyes, like a hawk.  The soldier shouted something in Vietnamese and his fellow comrades started shooting, but Champ fired back.

"SHIT!  CHAMP, YOU FUCKING MORON!" Slappy yelled, distracting the enemy, who began shooting at him.  While Champ engaged in physical combat, Slappy ran down the hill in his heavy fatigues, dodging bullets.  He fired as he ran, picking off the soldiers.

Though they were outnumbered, Slappy and Champ fared decently until a soldier's bullet struck Champ in his hip.  He fell to the ground with a wounded yell as blood flowed down around the bullet out of his body.

"FUCK!" Slappy yelled and kept shooting.  A bullet from the last enemy soldier knocked his gun out of his hand and hit his palm.  Hurting, he charged towards the soldier with his gun pointed and fired as he got close.  The soldier coughed his last and died.

Slappy ran back over to Champ, nursing his bleeding hand.  Champ was on the ground panting, bleeding out, his eyelids drooping.  Slappy looked down at him, panting and praying.  

_I can't lose another one...especially not this one...Zach'll kill me..._

"You're gonna be okay, man..." Slappy tried to bandage the wound, but the bullet was lodged into his body, puncturing his liver.  He gave up and looked down, sweating and trying not to cry.  Champ smiled and laughed weakly.

"Looks like I won't be back for Zach's wedding after all..." his head involuntarily turned and his eyes closed.  He was dead.

"NO!" two of Slappy's best friends were gone and so was his ability to care.  He sobbed green tears onto Champ's body for what felt like years.  After a while, as if the soul inside him could hear him, he shouted to the sky,

"I want to bury him!"

He felt the soul nod, understanding that he wanted to do this the right way, without his powers.  So, he dug a small hole with his bare hands and lowered Champ's body into it.  Writing on the dirt next to it, he wrote,

"Here lies Champion, 1951-1970.  A hell of a soldier and friend."

He had used up all his tears, so he just sat and stared at the makeshift grave all day and night before setting out by himself again the next morning.

  
  
  
  


 


	10. Letters, Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short little chapter of letters before we get into the thick of the plot in Chapter 11.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My inspiration for the picture quote. Saw this on Tumblr today and fell in love and thought it was perfect for Slappy and Mary-Ellen. 
> 
> https://66.media.tumblr.com/6194ac2c860235c39785343ab84af47a/tumblr_pl99pi6Nqb1td81kyo2_540.jpg
> 
> https://66.media.tumblr.com/319cdab4e8b3c48f1c33bd33f20cb328/tumblr_pl99pi6Nqb1td81kyo1_540.jpg

_I February 10, 1970_

_Slappy darling—_

_Happy New Year, darling. I hope this letter finds you in good health. I miss you...Annabelle does too. She’s kicking a lot. I can’t wait for her to come out next month and she can’t either!_

_Papa is overjoyed to be a grandpa and Wally can’t wait to be an uncle! They don’t mind stepping up while you’re gone, but I hope you’re home soon...our little girl needs a father._ _Take care of yourself, my love, and come home to me…_

_Yours forever,_

_Mary-Ellen_

_February 20, 1970_

_Dear Slappy,_

_We haven’t heard from you for a while. Dad is getting worried. If you were dead, the Army would let us know, right? If you’re still alive, PLEASE find a way to contact us. We saw a big thing on Cronkite about an entire unit being destroyed by two tanks. Was that your unit???_

_I’m worried about you too, Slappy. We all are. PLEASE let us know if you’re okay. Mary-Ellen says if you can find someplace with a phone, that’d be even groovier; she misses your voice and your laugh._

_Hannah_

_P.S. your little girl needs an old man, so you better get home before March 4th!_

 

_March 7, 1970_

_Slappy, my love,_

_Annabelle is here and she’s beautiful! She looks exactly like you—brown hair and heavy brown eyebrows. And she has your mouth. The only thing she has of mine is her beautiful blue eyes! But I’m sad because she looks so much like you that every time I look at her, I see you...that sorcerer’s soul has some strong genes!  But remember in Tokyo when you asked me if she’ll be a doll or a d-word?  She’s a doll. I win!_

_She also has your smile and I can almost hear your laugh in her little giggle. Oh, she is just the most precious little thing! She's just like you; she LOVES to laugh! I'm in love with her._

_I miss you at night the most. I know you'd be in bed with us holding our little girl and just adoring her. And then when she went to sleep, we'd cuddle and kiss and just be grateful we have each other...oh, Slappy, I know it's selfish of me and I know you love your country and I'm proud of you for serving, but I just want you home so badly... Hurry home....I want us to be a family._

_Yours forever,_

_Mary-Ellen_

_March 30, 1970_

_Slaps,_

_Your kid is cute. You make cute kids. When she laughs, it always reminds me of you, except she’s cuter when she does it. Haha._

_Things are changing a lot here. You’ll have to see it for yourself when you come home. You better come home. Zach and Hannah set a date for their wedding: October 12. Tell the Army to tell you to come home or something._

_Love,_

_Wally_

_P.S. you still owe me that beer. Luckily, the wedding’s gonna have an open bar!_

 

_April 10, 1970_

_Dear Slappy —_

_Annabelle is absolutely adorable!!! It makes me so excited to have kids with Zach. Speaking of which, I hope you got Wally’s letter; our wedding is October 12th!! I’m so excited. Lorraine and Zach’s mom are taking me dress shopping today._

_I’m sure you’ve heard this a thousand times from everyone, but Annabelle is a little mini-you. She has your laugh, your smile and your hair. The only thing she doesn’t have of yours is your eyes. We always get our mother’s eyes, Daddy always says._

_I really hope you’re getting our letters...I’d die if something happened to you. I probably wouldn’t make it to the wedding. PLEASE come home safely._

_Love,_

_Hannah_

_June 5, 1970_

 

Dear Slappy —

_We haven’t heard from you in quite some time.  Mary-Ellen hasn’t gotten an Army letter, so we’re assuming you’re alive.  If you have any way of contacting us, please do._

_Until you get home, Annabelle is Grandpa’s Little Girl.  I think it’s because she senses you in me. I don’t mean to brag, but I think she likes me more than her mother!_

_Everyone said they’ve written this to you over and over, but sometimes after I play with her or hold her, I have to go into my study and cry.  Slappy, your little girl is the SPITTING image of you and we’re not just saying that. Her species may be doll, but her hair is the same shade of brown and in the same style (or at least the baby version of it!) as yours._

_Slappy, despite what you think, I DO miss you and am proud of you.  I’m reminded of you every day now when I look at your little girl. I know you’ll be a great father.  PLEASE get in contact with us so we know you’re okay._

 

_Love,_

_Papa_

 

_P.S. Annabelle spits up on me a lot.  That’s how I know she loves me best!_

 

_July 4, 1970_

 

_Slappy—_

_Happy 4th!  Today I’m wearing that bikini you love me in._

_I’m writing because while I was nursing Annabelle, I found an old picture of us from ‘59. Remember that day when we were in front of your car at Madison High dropping Hannah and Zach off at school and we kissed and Hannah thought it was cute so she took a picture?  I just found it and saw what you wrote on the back:_

_“Anything you say is alright with me_

_I love you”_

_You're going to roll your eyes so hard, but I cried so hard that Papa had to come and take the baby.  You're just like your father, Slappy--a romantic on paper, but an asshole in real life.  I kid!  I still love you._

_We're really getting worried.  Are you getting these letters?  Where are you?  We're all praying you're okay.  Hannah helps a lot with Annabelle because she wants to train for when her and Zach have babies.  She does more than I do!  She's a far-out aunt and Wally and Zach are far-out uncles.  I have lots of help, but Annabelle gets plenty of mommy time when everyone is at work or school.  I nurse her and sing to her, of course.  And, because I know you'll be concerned about this, I'm showing her pictures of you every day so she knows who you are.  Because you were right; she should know who her father is.  Slappy, I'm very sorry for what I said in Tokyo...I thought you wouldn't want to be a father, so that's why I offered to...you know...when I got home and why I was acting so defiant, but now I know you want to be a father and I'm glad you do...hopefully you can come home and we can be married and a family.  Papa says he can get us a place in Dover when you get home._

_Stay safe, my love._

_Yours forever,_

_Mary-Ellen_

 

_P.S.  when I show her pictures of you, she smiles.  She loves you, even though she's never met you and you're so far from home.  It makes my heart heavy but also, I feel a lot of happiness.  We have a smart little cookie on our hands.  Hope you're ready for her when you come home!_


	11. You Look Like Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slappy meets one of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blow = go away, scram, get lost
> 
> The lullaby is from an episode of M*A*S*H. Radar sings it!

At home in Madison, Mary-Ellen, Hannah and Stine laughed and took turns rolling a ball to Annabelle while they watched the Phillies game on the new color TV (Hannah had convinced Stine to upgrade from the shabby old black-and-white TV that they'd had in the 50s when Hannah was little).  Annabelle, now at five months, was able to sit up and grab the ball and bite it giggling.

“Don’t bite it!” Hannah scolded, but laughed.  Stine did too as he occasionally snuck glances over between pitches on the baseball game.

“She’s Slappy’s kid, all right!  To a T!”

The girls both giggled.  “I think it’s time for bed, though, little one,” Mary-Ellen said sadly.  Annabelle stopped laughing and, threatened with the prospect of bedtime, began to cry, but then yawned.  Mary-Ellen laughed and nodded knowingly.

“Mmmhmmm, I thought so!"

She picked her daughter up and took her into the nursery and set her down in her crib.  Annabelle looked up at her with big blue plastic eyes, sucking her fingers and smiling. Mary-Ellen sighed; looking down at her was like looking down at Slappy.  She really did look like him; her plastic doll hair was brown and neatly combed on her head. And when she smiled, it was a mirror image of Slappy’s smile, with tiny little teeth starting to grow.

Mary-Ellen reached over to Annabelle’s bookshelf and picked up Slappy’s official Army photograph that was resting against one of her books.  She showed it to Annabelle, as she had every night before she went to bed for five months.

“This is your papa, sweetie,” Annabelle’s smile turned to a frown as her mother tried to fight back tears, like she had every night for the past five months.  Mary-Ellen sniffed. “And he’s gonna come home to you someday,” she tried to smile weakly.

Annabelle’s brow furrowed and a curious look came upon her face as if to ask “when?”  Mary-Ellen knew what she was asking and tried like hell to hold back tears.

“I don’t know, honey…”

She leaned down and kissed her daughter and put Slappy’s picture next to her.  Annabelle touched her father’s face with her tiny fingers and fell asleep, gripping it gently.  Mary-Ellen stood there for what felt like an eternity, looking down at her. Softly, she began to sing.

 _“Bye lo, baby, bye lo, baby._ _  
_ _Bye lo, baby, bye lo baby bye._ _  
_ _Daddy still loves you, Daddy still loves you._ _  
_ _Daddy still loves you, though he’s gone to war._  
_He misses baby, he misses baby.  He misses baby, he will be home soon.”_

She finished the lullaby and kissed her daughter’s temple gently.

“Good night, angel.  Mama and Papa love you very much,” and she left the room, leaving the soft lamp on and the door ajar slightly.

—

In the humid and muggy twilight, Slappy threw his head back, gasping for air after soaking his head in water.  In his adventure, he’d found a watering hole in a jungle big enough to take a bath in, which he desperately needed; he probably hadn’t bathed since he was at camp, which, ironically, was the same day he lost his unit.

Slappy stood in the water at what would be knee-deep for an average-sized person, but was waist-deep for him, naked and hand-wringing his fatigues, tank top and vest.  If he was washing himself, he figured he should wash his clothes.

Slappy threw the wet garments on the bank of the watering hole to dry, putting only his boxer briefs and fatigue pants and black boots back on.  He collapsed against a tree, resting. Even in twilight, it was still hot and humid. Tiny green beads of sweat ran down his wooden face. _It’s almost nighttime, why the hell is it so hot still?  And how have I not melted yet?_  

Slappy looked up at the deep light blue sky, reflecting.  He found it so hard to believe that just over a year ago, he’d been on a plane headed here.  And just before that, he’d been saying goodbye to Stine and Hannah before he got on the bus. Two people he’d never thought he’d miss, but he missed them like hell now.

Slappy scooted over to the water to look at his reflection.  The Army had aged him in ways he didn’t know a dummy could age; light 5:00 shadow ran from ear to ear and his eyes, normally big and brown, were now a dull rusty color.  He even had some wrinkles on the side of them. It was like the soul inside him had grown old too and it was reflecting on the outside somewhat, though Slappy still looked young.  His physique was much better now too, so that was a positive.  His arm muscles were decent and he had grown a small six-pack on his wooden stomach.

The dummy rested his head against the bark of the tree, exhausted.  It was strange that no Charlies had found him yet, but he was enjoying it; bats were starting to come out and chirp.  He even saw a few of them flying over the canopy of trees and smiled. _Just like a Goosebumps book,_ he thought.   _Why hasn’t Papa written a Goosebumps book that takes place in the jungle?  That’d be a groovy place for one!_

Slappy was shaken out of his thoughts by a noise that sounded like ruffling leaves next to him.  He looked over on the ground beside him to find a small gecko looking up at him, its tongue moving in and out.  It was multicolored, with maroon and beige stripes.

“Blow,” Slappy told it.  The lizard kept staring up at him inquisitively.

“Blow, will ya?  I’m trying to think!”

The gecko didn’t move.  Slappy sighed.

“You asked for it, pal,” he narrowed his eyes and the lizard flipped onto its back, dead.  Slappy felt a slight pang of guilt for killing an animal, but he’d already killed several humans in a year, so he figured he was fine.  

Slappy reached over to his vest and pulled out Champ’s pocket knife and skinned open the lizard, grimacing as he did so.  He was being reduced to bare minimum survival tactics and it was gross, but he had to eat something, he was so starving.

He cut the lizard open and found the meat of the animal and ate it.  His eyes widened as he found it surprisingly appetizing. He sat back against the tree eating the meat as if it were fruit and looked down at Champ’s knife.

_Champ…_

He’d have to tell Hannah and especially Zach that one of their best friends was dead and he wasn’t looking forward to it.  They’d probably think Slappy killed him himself, which Slappy had wanted to do on more than one occasion; after all, he was never too fond of the kid; he was too high-strung and annoying, but in the day that they had reconnected, he could see that Champ had grown up a lot.  Of course, he could thank the war for that, but 19-year-olds are a lot different than 16-year-olds.

And the strange thing was, Champ had taught _Slappy_ a lot instead of it being the other way around.  While they hung out around the campfire, Champ had taught Slappy how to make a homemade radio, which Slappy was looking at now.  It was a flimsy little thing, made of bamboo bark. Champ had some clipped wires in his bag, so he had fashioned the inner workings and dials and antennas.  It worked like a dream, Slappy thought and smiled as he listened to Armed Forces Radio. He finished his dinner and fell asleep late with the radio on his chest.

“Goooooood morning, Vietnam!” woke him up, followed by two gunshots.  Slappy scrambled up, reluctantly turned off Adrian Cronauer’s voice and got up, aiming his (really, it was Champ’s) pistol around him.  He wanted to call out “who’s there?” but looked down and realized he was still shirtless.

“Damn it!” he grumbled and pulled on his tank top, fatigues, vest and helmet.  He saddled his pistol and readied his machine gun, starting to move around as he aimed.  He heard something rustle in the trees behind him and turned around quickly and aimed.

“Who’s there?”

The dummy peeked over his gun and ventured into the thick, dense jungle, assuming that that’s where the sound came from.  The thick canopy of trees hid the sun and made it dark and Slappy didn’t have a flashlight, which was bad because he kept hearing Sergeant Morris’ voice in his head saying to watch out for landmines and from what he had learned about the Vietcong since being here, the jungle was probably booby-trapped.  He kept his eyes glued on his feet as he moved swiftly through the brush, keeping his gun aimed.

 _I can't see shit,_ Slappy thought.  He looked at his flamethrower on his hilt and sighed.  He couldn't arouse suspicion and scare wildlife if the moving thing  _was_ an enemy soldier, but at the same time, he couldn't see anything.  Tentatively, he pocketed his machine gun and took out the light flamethrower and fired a few bursts of flames.  In the sudden burst of light, monkeys screeched, scurrying up the trees.  It got dark again and Slappy locked eyes with the beady little pinpricks of a snub-nosed monkey, scurrying up a tree.

"Sorry guys...just tryin' to keep ya safe from commies..." he murmured and kept going.  He heard a roar followed by a little yelp as he saw the dark figure dart in front of him.  Slappy furrowed his brow and lowered his gun; the figure was small, almost not an average-sized person.

"What the hell...?"

Slappy didn't have time to process the discovery because the source of the roar came into his line of vision.  He didn't need to use his flamethrower to see what it was:  a nine foot long, 415-pound Indochinese tiger, its fur burning orange even in the darkness.   Slappy's eyes widened.

"Oh no..."

Slappy took off running right, in the direction the figure had went, at the speed of light, panting and praying his legs could carry him far and that the soul inside him realized that his size made him the perfect food for a tiger that big.  But he ran out of breath and had to stop, putting his hands on his knees and panting.  He looked behind him and the tiger was still there, albeit far away from him.  Slappy looked at it, confused.

"You're...not following me...?"

The tiger made a slight roar and nodded its head in the direction of the figure.  Slappy looked towards where it was nodding and realized that his powers were at work and he didn't even know it; the soul was communicating with the big cat, letting the animal know that the dummy didn't want to hurt it.  A perplexed smile came upon Slappy's mouth.

"T...thanks!"

He kept running and finally was out of the jungle into the sweltering heat and light of day.  If there was a village in the distance, he couldn't see it; there was nothing but trees.  He ran around a series of rocks across a dirt path when an explosion went off, dropping him to the ground.

"FUCK!"

Land mine.

The puppet scrambled to his feet and realized he was back in the midst of fighting.  

"PRIVATE, WHAT THE HELL YOU DOIN', MAN??  GET BEHIND HERE!!"

Before Slappy knew what was happening, an American soldier pulled him behind a rock.

"THE ENEMY'S OVER THERE!!"

 _No shit, moron,_ Slappy thought as he loaded his machine gun and started firing at the enemy soldiers across the dirt field.  The lieutenant next to him reloaded and shouted,

"WHAT'S YOUR RANK AND UNIT??"

"Uh..."

"WHAT.IS.YOUR.RANK.AND.UNIT, PRIVATE???"

"Uh...they...they were killed, sir!"

A look of realization came upon the lieutenant's face.

"The two-tank blast?"

Slappy nodded. "Yes sir!"

"The hell did you make it outta there alive?  Keep shooting!"

They keep shooting until a bit later, Slappy spotted a small fatigued figure on the other side.  He lowered his gun as the figure darted away behind some big rocks.

"HEY!!!" Slappy shouted and ran after it, shooting as he ran.

"HEY!!!!" the lieutenant shouted after him.

The gunfire became distant as Slappy kept running and came upon a small rock alcove covered by rocks.  Filled with rage at the nerve of this guy chasing him all morning, he tore down all the rocks and aimed his gun.

"Gotcha, you commie motherfucker," he said with an angry look on his face.  The figure cowered, trembling.  Slappy lowered his gun, becoming even more confused.  The figure slowly turned its head to face him and Slappy could not believe what he was seeing.  Its face, terrified, scared, covered with scars from war, also featured two lines running down from his mouth, a scar on his chin and a scar on his nose.  Slappy almost fainted, but he just stared in absolute shock.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me..."  


	12. Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Vietnamese dummy introduces Slappy to his village.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, this is the chapter with Vietnamese, so if you have any corrections/a better translation service than Google Translate, PLEASE let me know.
> 
> Xin đừng làm tổn thương tôi = please don't hurt me
> 
> Làng tôi = my village
> 
> Tôi muốn về nhà = I want to go home
> 
> Không = no/is not
> 
> Tôi chỉ không nói tiếng Anh = I just do not speak English
> 
> Đơn vị của tôi! Đơn vị của tôi! Đó là đơn vị của tôi = My unit, my unit, that is my unit
> 
> Thịt gà và bánh bao = chicken and dumplings
> 
> Nhưng mẹ tôi làm một số món phở ngon = but my mom makes some delicious pho
> 
> Cảm ơn bạn! Cảm ơn bạn! = thank you! Thank you!
> 
> Tất cả mọi người! Giang đã trở lại! = Everyone! Giang is back!
> 
> Đến! = Come!
> 
> Ăn! Bạn trông có vẻ mệt mỏi = Eat! You look tired
> 
> Đó là món phở ngon của mẹ tôi, tôi đã kể cho bạn nghe! = That's my mom's good pho I was telling you about!
> 
> Bạn cho anh ta thấy một số sự tôn trọng! Người đàn ông này đã cứu anh trai của bạn và đưa anh ta về nhà! = You show him some respect! This man saved your brother and brought him home!
> 
> Anh ta đã nói gì?? = what did he say??
> 
> Anh ta nói anh ta là lính đã giết Thảo = He says he's the soldier that killed Thao
> 
> Kẻ giết người! Bạn đã giết cháu tôi!! = Killer! You killed my nephew!
> 
> Mẹ ơi! = Mother, please!

Slappy and the Vietnamese dummy stared at each other for quite some time as the fighting died down.  Even after the some time had passed, it still hadn’t fully registered with Slappy that there were others like him in the world.  Was this dummy Stine’s doing, created to teach him a lesson?

The Asian dummy finally timidly looked up at his attacker and immediately became terrified.  He held both hands up in the air as if he was surrendering.

“Xin đừng làm tổn thương tôi!”

Slappy didn’t speak a word of Vietnamese and he guessed his powers didn’t come with a translator, but he could tell by the soldier’s expression and stance that he was asking the American dummy not to hurt him.  Slappy quickly realized and shook his head.

“I’m not gonna hurt you!  See?” He emptied out the bullets from his gun and held up his hands in an “I surrender” pose.  The enemy dummy put his hands down slowly. Slappy extended his hand.

“C’mon, man, get outta there.  It ain’t good for ya. Suffocating, you know?”

The wooden soldier stared at the extended hand and then down at his bloody leg, green blood flowing gently from it.  Slappy noticed it too.

“Oh…come on.”

Slappy reached in and picked the soldier up and slung him over his back.  He bent down carefully and picked up his gun.

“Where to, pal?”

“Làng tôi!”

“Lang toy?  What’s that, a toy store?  Why do you wanna go to a toy store in the middle of a war?”

“Làng tôi!!!”

“All right, all right, we’ll go to Lang toy, wherever that is.”

They set off. “Y’know, we need a name for you, buddy.”

“Ah?”

“Y’know, my papa’s an author...what was Rob Crusoe’s buddy’s name? Monday? Wednesday? Friday.  I’ll call you Friday. Best day of the week!”

“Tôi muốn về nhà…” Friday said sadly.

“Me too, pal,” Slappy said, even though he had no clue what the Vietnamese dummy had said.

They ventured across a small stream.  Although Friday wasn’t that heavy, Slappy was quickly losing breath.

“Ah...so where’s Lang toy?  Are we close?”

“Không,” Slappy felt Friday shake his head.  Slappy furrowed his brow, assuming he said no, and looked at him.

“You know English…?”

The Vietnamese dummy smiled and nodded.  “Tôi chỉ không nói tiếng Anh.”

They heard voices and saw a line of Vietnamese soldiers marching on a path below them.  Friday pointed at them excitedly.

“Đơn vị của tôi! Đơn vị của tôi! Đó là đơn vị của tôi!”

“Shush, you idiot!  They’ll hear us!” Slappy found a big bush and dumped Friday off beside him behind the bush.

“Ow!” The Vietnamese soldier exclaimed, causing Slappy to chuckle and shake his head as he observed the soldiers marching.

“You don’t speak English but you can say ow.  Go figure.”

The line of soldiers was past them.

“Come on…” Slappy whispered and slung Friday on his back again and they snuck out from behind the bush and continued on.

On and on they went.  Slappy felt his weariness from carrying Friday slip away the further they ventured.  A year and a half ago, he would have faltered easily, but with his newfound strength and muscles, he was able to carry people long distances.  He was using his gun as a cane to keep his balance. Friday hadn’t said anything in a while, but Slappy looked over his shoulder every once in a while and noticed that the dummy wasn’t asleep, just quietly observing his surroundings.  Slappy guessed that although he was a native, Friday hadn’t seen much of his own country. Slappy could relate; he hadn’t seen much of the U.S. outside of Delaware and Pennsylvania. Hell, the kid was probably quiet because he didn’t know English.  

As they walked, Slappy tried to figure out how there were other dummies besides him and in different countries, no less.  Did Stine create a dummy he hadn’t told him about? Is that why Stine made him go to war? Slappy wouldn’t be surprised if Stine was a cheapskate, but a voice inside him told him that this wasn’t deliberate.

By noon, the sun had disappeared behind some clouds, but it was still humid and muggy.  Green sweat ran down both Slappy's and Friday's faces and down their arms. Slappy sniffed.

"Hey, I smell somethin' good!  You smell that, Friday?"

"Ah!"

Friday looked in the direction of the smoke and gasped, pointing. “Làng tôi!  Làng tôi!"

Slappy furrowed his brow. "That's Lang toy?  It don't look like no toy store to me..." His eyes suddenly widened. "Ohhhh wait a minute!  That's where you're from, isn't it? Lang toy is your village!"

Friday nodded, smiling.

"Well then what are we waitin' for?  Let's go!" Slappy walked as fast as he could with someone on his back down the dirt path through the trees to the village.

"Làng tôi!  Làng tôi!"

"That's right, pal!  We'll see your folks and get some grub!  You hungry? What's your favorite food?"

"Thịt gà và bánh bao!"

"Whatever you say, pal."

"Nhưng mẹ tôi làm một số món phở ngon!"

"I can't understand you, man.  I don't know why you keep trying."

They made their way down the hill to the line of trees leading to the village.  The trees ended and they were surrounded on either side by small clay houses. No one was in the makeshift street except for a few little boys playing soccer in the yard of one of the houses.  

A few people came out of the houses, but quickly went back inside when they saw the American carrying one of their soldiers, badly wounded.  Slappy carefully walked a bit further into the center of the village.   _I feel like Wyatt Earp when he used to walk into a ghost town on the show,_ he thought.  He brought Friday down from his back and held onto him with one arm, supporting him.

"Here, just lean on me.  This is so people don't think I killed ya...put your arm around me...that's it..."

He got Friday into a somewhat standing position and waited.  Soon, the residents of the village began to poke their heads out.  A middle-aged woman saw Friday and immediately, her expression turned to one of joy as she ran towards him.

"GIANG!!!" 

The lady ran up to Friday and hugged him, both of them smiling and crying as Slappy smiled looking on.  Slappy noticed that the woman, who he assumed was Friday's mother, had thick, curly jet black hair matted on her head.

The woman released Friday and grabbed Slappy's hand, shaking it vigorously while she cried profusely.

"Cảm ơn bạn! Cảm ơn bạn!" Slappy nodded as she called to the village.  "Tất cả mọi người! Giang đã trở lại!"

The rest of the villagers came running out up to him and shook his hand, hugged him and touched his face.  He couldn't help but laugh and smile and nod.  He was amazed at how strong they were.  They had absolutely nothing, yet the children all had smiles on their faces and looked up to him as a hero.  This was the opposite effect from what he'd always wanted when walking into a town, but strangely, he liked being looked up to.  Not being hailed as a hero, but having children look up to him.

"Đến!" Friday's mother took Slappy by the hand and led him into the family hut.  It was dark inside, the sod floor lit only by a dim candle.  Friday--or Giang, as Slappy guessed his given name was--sat diagonally from him, resting against the wall.  A few pictures were illuminated by the candle.  Slappy looked at one and looked closely as he noticed the soldier he had killed in his first skirmish a year ago; a handsome young man with black hair and a strong jaw.  He diverted his gaze from the photo quickly as the woman came in carrying a piping hot bowl of pho.  She offered it to Slappy, but he waved his hands and shook his head.

"No...please, I can't take this from you..."

But the woman insisted.  "Ăn! Bạn trông có vẻ mệt mỏi," she held it up to his nose so he could inhale the delicious fumes.  Slappy inhaled and closed his eyes; it was better than anything Lorraine had ever made and he loved Lorraine's cooking.

"Does smell good..."

He took the bowl and observed its contents.  Thin white noodles, herbs and a few pieces of beef were in it.

"Đó là món phở ngon của mẹ tôi, tôi đã kể cho bạn nghe!" Giang smiled and nodded.  Slappy took a bite of the beef and noodles and his eyes widened.

"Wow...this is delicious!" he nodded at the woman, who smiled happily.  Slappy thought of Champ and asked,

"Uh, do you...have a phone, ma'am?" he made a phone gesture with his thumb and pinky and held it to his ear so she could understand.  She shook her head sadly.  A young man with dark hair who looked like the man in the picture, only younger, came in from one of the other rooms.

"Mother, I heard noise in the village, what's..." he spots Slappy and his eyes widen. "Mother, he's American!  And...not human!"

The woman grabbed a piece of wood and lightly rapped her son on the shoulder.  Slappy silently chuckled; the boys' mother reminded him so much of Lorraine. 

"Bạn cho anh ta thấy một số sự tôn trọng! Người đàn ông này đã cứu anh trai của bạn và đưa anh ta về nhà!" she scolded.

The man looked down and nodded.  "I'm sorry, Mother..."

The woman nodded with a "damn right, you're sorry" expression on her face.  Both of them sat down facing Slappy, who gulped.   _Great, time for questions,_ he thought.

"Thank you for saving my brother..." the young man said.  His voice was quiet, as if he were ashamed of his broken English, but to Slappy, his English sounded fine.

"Any time..."

"Where did you find him?"

"Well he found me," he chuckled.  "I was on my own after my unit was destroyed.  I was in the jungle and this one" he jerked his thumb toward Giang. "started following me.  Think he's a bit loopy--you're South Vietnamese, no?  You're on our side!"

The English speaker of the family translated for his mother.  The woman burst out laughing and shook her head at Giang.

"Giang luôn có một chút ngớ ngẩn."

The English speaker started laughing. "My mother says that Giang always was a bit on the dumb side and it's true!" he playfully hit Giang, who laughed weakly.  His mother suddenly remembered her son was injured and went into the kitchen.

"I'm Hanh, by the way," Hanh smiled and extended his hand.  Slappy nodded, smiled and leaned forward to shake it.

"Slappy.  Where'd ya learn English?"

Hanh smiled. "I studied in your country!  NYU!"

"Hah.  No wonder you're a genius."

Hanh laughed, but his smile faded. "I am shocked you are the same race as my brother."

"How do you...?  Oh, a d...puppet, you mean.  Yeah, I was about to ask you the same thing.  Uh...I was created...by R.L. Stine.  How, uh...how was he created?"

"The Vietnamese have a legend.  Years ago, an evil sorcerer was fleeing Huns in China.  They eventually caught up to him and murdered him, but he placed his soul in a series of wooden dummies--"

"Puppets," Slappy cringed.

"Oh...I'm sorry.  He placed his soul in a series of wooden puppets.  Giang we found in an orphanage in Saigon.  We didn't know he was a d...puppet at first, but we saw his lines and we knew that the prophecy was true."

Slappy nodded. "I see..." he looked at the family portrait with the young man whom he had killed. "Who...who is this?" he pointed to him.  Hanh side-eyed the photo somberly.

"That is my cousin Thao.  His family is from Thanh Hoa, in North Vietnam.  He was killed a year ago at Hamburger Hill.  Mother hasn't stopped mourning his death."

Slappy looked at the photo feeling intense pangs of guilt. "I...I'm sorry," he closed his eyes.

Hanh looked down and took a deep breath. "He was going to attend university in England after the war.  He wanted to be a doctor."

A green tear rolled down from Slappy's eye as his eyes shut tight.   _A doctor.  Like Wally.  I stole a kid's life.  He had a future and I took that from him._ The lesson Stine had wanted him to learn crashed on top of him like a brick.  He was snapped out of his reverie when Hanh asked him the question he was dreading.

"Did you know him?"

Hanh and Giang's mother walked back in and all three looked at Slappy.

"Um...ma'am, Hanh, Giang, I...sincerely apologize, but...I'm the soldier that killed Thao.  It was my first battle and...I was so ready to kill, I was just acting on orders, I'm so, so sorry..."

Hanh and Giang's mother looked at Hanh in a panic.  "Anh ta đã nói gì??"

Hanh turned to look at her and took a deep breath. "Anh ta nói anh ta là lính đã giết Thảo...."

Hanh and Giang's mother collapsed and broke down crying.  Hanh went to go comfort her.  Giang just stared at Slappy sadly. Slappy got up and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, I was just carrying out orders from my CO..."

The woman snapped out of her sadness and hit him hard.  "Kẻ giết người! Bạn đã giết cháu tôi!!"

Hanh stopped her. "Mẹ ơi!"

But Slappy got up and gathered his helmet. "I should be going.  Thank you for the pho, ma'am, it was delicious.  I...I'm sorry, again."  He walked over to Giang and extended his hand. 

"Good to meet you, Giang."

Giang took his hand and shook it.

"F...Friday," the Vietnamese dummy smiled widely up at him, almost admiring him like a child.  Hanh and his mother looked on in shock.  Slappy's heart leapt and he smiled proudly.

"You got it, kid.  Keep practicing.  Your brother can teach ya a thing or two."

He turned back to the Asian dummy's mother and Hanh and bowed. "Thank you again," he left and set off along the dirt path out of the village, his back lighter now that he wasn't carrying anyone on it, but his shoulders were still heavy with the guilt he had been carrying for a year.

_That went well,_ he heard the soul say.

"Shut up, how was I supposed to know that was his family?" Slappy muttered.  He didn't have much time to think after that, because a bomb fell right in front of him, sending him flying.

"FUCK!!!!"

_Time to redeem yourself, Slaps._


	13. Birth of a Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle for the village.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no clue what to do with this chapter so sorry if it sucks, lol. Hope you're all still enjoying!

The blast sent Slappy flying. The residents of the little village came running out of their huts, frantic as a North Vietnamese tank rolled into their once peaceful little burg, bulldozing a family’s hut. A line of infantry followed. On the other side, the South Vietnamese and an American unit appeared, both countries sans tank. The two sides fired at each other while Slappy hid behind one of the huts loading his gun, though he didn’t know how long the ammo would last. Sure enough, he heard the missile coming a mile away and felt the aftershock as it destroyed his shelter. He’d only escaped the jaws of death by diving out of the way just in time.

“I’m so tired of these goddamn tanks!” he whined and turned and fired, uncovered, knocking out some Vietcong. He dodged some bullets and met up with the South Vietnamese and Americans and kept firing. Slappy noticed that Giang had hobbled over with his bad leg to join the South Vietnamese troops. The villagers were frantic, running and screaming, trying desperately to get away. A woman diagonal from Slappy’s line of vision was screaming and crying in pain, her face bleeding. A bullet hit her in the back and leg and she fell to the ground, crying in agony. Slappy saw her out of the corner of his eye and turned to look at her. His wooden heart broke as he watched her grab her leg screaming for help. Behind her, a baby who looked just one year old cried as it tried to toddle towards his mother. Upon looking closer, Slappy noticed that the child had a head wound. Blood streamed down the side of his face.

“No time to sightsee, Private! Charlies are all around us!” an American sergeant yelled. Slappy refocused and kept firing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hanh guiding his mother, who was sobbing profusely and calling and reaching for Giang, by the arm to safety.

“DUCK!”

“What the—“ as an American Air Force bomber plane dropped at least three bombs on the massive Vietcong tank, destroying it and at least two huts, leaving a cloud of thick black smoke.

“Hey-heeey, the flyboys did something right!” one of the Americans shouted. The smoke cleared and the Vietcong soldiers, now without the cover of their tank, took refuge in and behind the remaining huts, while some squared off against the good guys in the center of the village, making it really feel like an old-school Wild West shootout.

 _Now I REALLY feel like Wyatt Earp,_ Slappy thought. He was firing when he saw Hanh running towards him, carrying his mother. Slappy turned to look and for some reason, the crying Vietnamese woman’s face disappeared. It was replaced by Lorraine’s face, screaming and crying in terror as she had that night in the police station. And this time, Slappy didn’t enjoy it.

“Slappy!!” Hanh shouted, shaking Slappy out of his reverie. “We need to get my mother to safety!!”

At that moment, both men looked up and saw North Vietnamese bomber planes overhead.

“Get her to safety and tell her to cover her eyes!” Slappy yelled.  He watched Hanh escort his mother to safety and tell her to cover her eyes.

The planes dropped bombs all over the village, sending people screaming in terror. The South Vietnamese and American forces started to retreat, but Slappy stayed, knocking off the rest of the Vietcong infantry. But try as he might, he couldn’t take on the planes. He started to run, but a plane dropped a bomb right behind him that sent him flying into the dirt. He struggled to get up, every part of his wooden body aching, his face dirty. A few feet in front of him, toddlers and a few older children leading them were running away from danger. Slappy got a sudden burst of energy and rushed towards them, scooping the little kids up. He didn’t want to, but he narrowed his eyes and the older boy and girl looked around them alarmed as they began to float. Slappy tried to keep his focus on them as he led them and the toddlers over to the Americans, who took them to safety, but a blast broke his concentration and sent him falling to the ground as he got there. He tried to get up, but couldn’t. He felt a sharp pain in his leg and chest and knew that he had been hit by a plane’s machine guns. He tiredly lifted his head up and handed the little girl to an American soldier. His eyesight faded to black, but he could see the soldier pick her up and carry her away.

 


	14. The Long Call Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slappy talks to everyone in the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billy Ray Barnes, #33 halfback, Philadelphia Eagles 1960
> 
> Also, it's not mentioned in this chapter, but the Wyatt Earp show that Slappy referenced in Chapters 12 and 13 is this: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0047750/ I just feel like Slappy would love those Western shows that were big in the 50s and 60s. :) Also, Douglas Fairbanks is my hero and I feel like Slappy would like him too!
> 
> Slang:
> 
> Gearhead = someone who eats, sleeps and breathes cars

Stine sat alone at his desk.  He was at deadline; his publisher was begging him for a new Goosebumps book, but none of them had heard from Slappy in months.  As much as Hannah tried to get him not to worry and focus on happy things like Annabelle, Stine stressed like a madman. He wasn’t eating; he’d lost so much weight. He shut himself in his study when he wasn’t required to be with his family.  He’d try to write, but nothing came.

On this particular night, he looked around his study, desperately looking for something to distract him, even though he knew nothing would.  He opened the biggest drawer in his desk where he kept all the home movies he’d ever taken of his family. He picked the first reel of film up and put it in the projector and started it up.  He could see clearly despite the patterns on the wall.

It was a clear, sunny summer day. Stine was filming Hannah, Wally and Slappy at the community pool sometime in the early 60s, before Slappy had done...what he did.  If Slappy were here, he’d describe it as before Stine betrayed him, of course.

Stine sat back down and clasped both of his hands together against his mouth with his elbows resting on his desk and watched.  Hannah, then a young tween with freckles, smiled in the pool swimming and waving, but only for a second as the camera cut to a shirtless Slappy in red swim trunks saluting and doing a cannonball.  Stine chuckled slightly; despite his faults, he’d written Slappy to be a practical joker and that he was.

Stine saw more evidence of that in the next setting.  Slappy and Wally appeared on-screen. There was no sound, of course.  Not like Stine would be able to understand them anyway; how quickly their mouths were moving reminded him that the two brothers loved getting drunk and the way they were dressed reminded him that it was New Year’s Eve.  Wally was dressed as the New Year’s baby and Slappy was just barely recognizable in his long, willowy silver Father Time beard and robe. Wally’s white sash bore a painted 1963 in big black numbers, letting Stine know the year.  Both were holding glasses of champagne (or some other liquor) and took a big swig at the same time, followed by more inaudible babbling and them raising their glasses, perhaps to toast the new year.

The next clip that followed was a close-up of Slappy in a football helmet and his Billy Ray Barnes Eagles jersey.  Stine could see his smile through the helmet bars and his twinkling brown eyes were just visible above them. Champ ran across the screen, causing the cameraman to point to direct Slappy to him.  The dummy snapped into action. Stine laughed at the sight of his three-foot tall creation trying to tackle a much taller person. The puppet fell, hitting the ground and running off-screen after Champ.  In the next scene, Champ and Slappy showed the cameraman the finer points of throwing a football, Slappy nodding along. Stine was worried about Champ too; as much as he found his son-in-law’s and daughter’s best friend annoying, Stine knew his parents quite well and felt he was also responsible for the young man.  He wondered if Slappy had run into him yet.

The setting changed again.  Stine knew exactly what it was; Hannah’s first day of public high school.  It was just after the incident. Stine had let Slappy out of the book fearing the worst, but it was as if nothing had happened.  Sure, they had had words (and probably fights) before this was filmed and he was watching Hannah shy away a bit as her wooden brother clowned for the camera, putting an arm around her and giving a thumbs up and smiling dressed in a plain white shirt and tie, but she was smiling too, dressed in a beautiful yellow sundress.  As much as they fought and as awful as what he did was, Stine knew that Slappy really did care about Hannah; he loved her and protected her as all big brothers should. After he had come out of the book after the incident, Slappy saw how badly what he had done affected Hannah and tried his best to make everything seem normal for her.  It annoyed Stine at the time the way his dummy just swept all the turmoil he had caused under the rug, but he knew now that he was doing it for Hannah's well-being.

The screen almost went dark and Stine realized that it was a dance.  Mary-Ellen rested her head against Slappy’s chest as the two danced, Slappy waggling his eyebrows suggestively at whoever the cameraman was, her hands in his as they swayed.

Stine smiled as another clip showed the camera moving slowly across Slappy on the far left, then Champ, Wally and Zach at some formal event, all looking handsome and dapper in new suits and smiling, their hair groomed and slicked back.

A few other clips followed; Slappy shirtless in his slacks, his hair wet, in a little boat on the lake he and Hannah would always visit holding up a fish on a line, pointing to it and bragging about his catch and laughing; Slappy singing (or trying to sing) along to an Elvis song as Elvis was on the TV behind him, holding his fist up to his mouth like a mic, gyrating his hips and swinging his arm just like him, trying to look sexy but accidentally knocking over a vase, making Stine laugh; Slappy operating a camera and telling whoever was filming to move over; Slappy on Christmas shaking a small present asking what it was;  Slappy trying on a new, sharp gray suit and black tie and showing off and Hannah fanning herself at how handsome he was; Zach and Slappy playing baseball and Zach throwing a pitch to Slappy, who knocked it into the makeshift left field and ran the bases, celebrating his inside-the-park home run that probably was just him cheating, Stine judged by Zach’s reaction; Slappy and Mary-Ellen together on the couch in the living room, Slappy smiling and kissing her cheek over and over, moving her dress down her legs as she swatted his hand away. He had his arm around her as he looked to his left, talking to an unseen person off-camera; another two-second clip of Slappy outside on a sunny day, squinting and smiling and drinking a beer; another clip that was filmed against the very wall that Stine was watching the movies on now, with Douglas Fairbanks’ _Robin Hood_ playing and Slappy watching and imitating Doug as he swashbuckled his way through John and his henchmen.  Stine smiled as his dummy turned to the camera happily and his mouth moved, probably enthusing the audience of his love for Doug inherited from his father, holding up the elder Stine’s old action figure of Doug as Robin Hood.  The camera cut to a zoomed-out scene of Slappy with his hand on his hip pretending to sword fight like Doug, watching the screen and taking pointers from his hero.

The last clip Stine saw before tears started was the old black and white tube TV turned on to what looked like a football game.  Slappy sat in the easy chair in a red sweater and Zach sat adjacent to him on the couch watching the game as the person holding the camera moved slowly forward. Slappy turned his head as he felt the cameraman’s presence and grinned without showing his teeth, his eyes raised.   

Stine lost it.  He knew it would make him cry more, but he paused the projector on the image of his wooden son’s face in happier times.  Taking off his glasses, he cried, rubbing his face, sniffing and rubbing his eyes.

“Slappy, I love you...please come home…”         

\-----

Everything was black, but Slappy felt himself moving.  He felt a comfortable numbness, but it was wearing off quickly and being replaced with a searing pain, causing him to yell.  He felt warm and cold hands pushing him down and more excruciating pain as a needle was thrust into his arm. Although he was made of wood, whatever was in the needle was injected into his magic bloodstream and made him calm down again.

He entered into a deep sleep.  He heard a voice say “just think of something happy,” but as he drifted off, thoughts of Champ, Hanh and his mother, Giang, Stine, Hannah, Zach, Lorraine and Wally pervaded his mind.  But at the last minute, just before he was out for good, he _did_ think of something happy; the image of Mary-Ellen’s beautiful blushing doll face and blonde curls appeared, surrounded by angelic white light.  The nurses looked at each other confused as a slight smile appeared on their wooden patient’s face.

Slappy felt himself stop moving.  Now he was on something soft and downy.   _Heaven?_ He thought.    _Nah, I don’t deserve to be there._ He opened one eye and all he saw was white and he realized his face was turned into a pillow.  He turned his head a little opening both eyes and saw what vaguely looked like a woman dressed in white tending to something on his leg.  He groaned and buried his face back into the pillow, but he was only able to do that for a few seconds because the nurse did something that jolted him wide awake and yelling in pain.  The nurse held him down.

“Mr. Stine, calm down!  It’s just the IV!”

Slappy panted looking at her and then at his wooden arm, then up at the plastic bag filled with water being injected into him.  He gulped.

“W...where am I?”

“You’re in Saigon, hun.  That machine gun fire and shrapnel you took got you pretty bad.  You're lucky you're...who you are, or else you'd be dead."

Slappy used his non-IV hand to peek under his hospital gown at his stomach.  It was riddled with holes, tape and stitches. A bit of faded green was there too; he wondered how much magic blood he had lost and if it had affected his powers any.

Suddenly, Slappy realized and sat bolt upright. "The kids!!  Those kids!! Where are the kids??"

The nurse gently put her hands on him and settled him down. "Eeeasy, the kids from the village are with their parents and elders at a shelter down the road.  They're fine."

Slappy breathed a sigh of relief.  The nurse smirked. "You know, for an evil ventriloquist dummy, you sure have a lot of empathy!"

Slappy blinked and looked at her, startled. "I'm sorry, what?"

She smiled, "I'm from Wilmington, hun.  We got the strange weather patterns too."

Slappy smiled proudly and blushed. "What's a nice girl like you doin' here?"

The nurse smiled and shook her head. "You're still evil."

Slappy smiled as she walked out and wolf-whistled as he checked out her ass.  The nurse turned and shot him a smirk-stare.

“I know you have a girl back home.  I could tell by the way you were smiling under anesthesia,” she said in a quiet, flirty voice and left.  

Slappy smiled as he looked around him.  Out in the hallway, he could see plastic leaves hanging on the windowsills and guessed it was sometime in November, or at least in the fall.  He was right; he peered closer and there was a calendar on the wall across from him with November 13th circled.

"Jesus...I've been on my own for almost a year..." Slappy shook his head.  He tried to sit up but the wounds in his stomach and leg stabbed him with pain, making him wince and grit his teeth.  He looked to see if there were any nurses coming. There weren't, so he lifted the sheets to see his leg and gasped, putting a hand over his mouth.  A deep gash ran up his wooden leg and it was so deep that Slappy could see the wood underneath it. It was buried under a layer of tape, meaning that green blood must have leaked from it.  A tube of glowing green blood ran into a small circular holder of blood attached to the gash.

"How did they get my blood...?" Slappy asked himself.

At that moment, the same nurse that Slappy had flirted with came in. "How did you get my blood?  I don't have regular human blood..."

The nurse smiled and left.

"Or don't answer my question, that's groovy too..." He sighed and looked down, but back up as the nurse came back with Giang on crutches smiling.  Slappy's eyes widened.

"You..."

"We had to give you a blood transfusion.  Believe me, we were just as lost as you were on what to do since you don’t have hemoglobin.  But luckily, this young man who I guess calls himself Friday was injured along with you and gladly gave some of his blood," the nurse smiled.

"I give blood fusion!  And learn English!" Friday exclaimed in a chipper voice, smiling happily.  Slappy laughed jovially even though it hurt as Friday came up to him and shook his hand.

"I owe ya one, man," Slappy said, getting choked up.  "You saved my life...no one's ever done that for me before..."

Friday dropped his crutches and hugged him (more like crashed into him), but Slappy pushed back. "Whoa whoa, eeeasy there, kid.  I got stitches. But thanks, man."

They paused until Slappy realized something. "Wait a minute...do you have a phone?"

"It's right behind you!" The nurse pointed at the phone above his bed, smiling.  Slappy couldn't reach it because of his short stature, so the nurse walked over and got it for him and handed it to him.  He thanked her and held the phone to his ear and was greeted by the charming voice of a female Army operator asking him where he'd like to place his call.

"Umm...." Slappy closed his eyes and tried to remember Stine's number.  Stine was archaic; he still used the two letter, five number format.

"Hello?" the operator was getting worried.

"Sorry...try Monroe 1-9975."

"One moment, please!" the operator said sweetly.  The nurse escorted Friday out so Slappy could have some alone time.

In Madison, Lorraine, Hannah and Mary-Ellen set the table for dinner.  Hannah, no longer a teen but a young newly married woman, wore a very tasteful goldenrod dress.  Mary-Ellen in her usual white dress fed Annabelle unsuccessfully; the now seven-month-old doll sat in her highchair banging her spoon and laughing.  Mary-Ellen sighed as Hannah and Lorraine laughed. The door opened and Zach, the new husband with a spring in his step (and a new mustache and sideburns), came home from work at the shipyards in Wilmington, Wally alongside him.  Hannah's face lit up.

"Zach!"

"Hi honey," they took each other's hands and pecked on the lips.

"Hey Wally!" Hannah hugged the red-haired dummy.  Not only was he her brother-in-law now, but he was also Zach’s co-worker; Wally, ever the car enthusiast, worked on and repaired Navy submarines while Zach was in the control room operating cranes and other equipment with “these far out new things called computers,” he often quipped.

"Hey Wally, hey Zach.  How was work, boys?" Lorraine asked as Annabelle giggled as Wally picked her up to hug her.

"Fine...damn Navy...been loading surplus all day.  War's gotta end sometime, right, Dad?" Zach asked his father-in-law, who just walked into the kitchen.  The older man shook his head wistfully.

"God knows..." he said quietly and left.  Hannah sighed; she missed her father. Zach saw his wife's pain reflected on her face and changed the subject.

"Any luck with med school, Wals?"

Wally shook his head and sighed. "I've applied everywhere.  Even Harvard and Yale even though I have no shot of getting into either one."

Hannah sat down across from him and put her hand on his. "Keep your head up, Wally.  It'll happen."

"Yeah Wally, keep on truckin', like you always say!" Wally smiled at Mary-Ellen.

Just then, the phone rang.  Hannah got up and answered it while the men and Mary-Ellen finished setting the table and cooking. "Hello?"

In Saigon, Slappy closed his eyes.  It had been so long since he had heard his sister's voice and it felt like honey in his ears.  He couldn't say anything; he was too busy soaking her "hello" in.

"Hello...?  Who is this?"

Slappy was shaken out of his reflection.  Despite being wide awake, he was still tired from the anesthetic and just barely managed to croak out "Hey sis..."

Hannah's jaw dropped and her eyes widened.  "Slappy???"

"What???" Zach and Lorraine came over, Wally stood up and Mary-Ellen looked in Hannah's direction.

"Yeah...it's me..." he had to hold the phone away from his ear as Hannah screamed at the top of her lungs,

"DAD!  SLAPPY'S ON THE PHONE!!!"

"WHAT???" a roar came from the study as Stine stormed over to the phone with the rest of them. Hannah got back on the phone.

"Where are you???  How are you???"

"I'm in Saigon...I lost my unit in March or April and I've been on my own...I came to this village and there was a skirmish...I got hit...I'm in the hospital, sis..."

"Oh no...are you okay?  Are you able to walk? Where did you get hurt??"

"I'm fine.  I don't know if I'll be able to walk for a while.  I lost a lot of blood in my leg. You should see it, sis.  It's like something out of a horror flick, like one of the Dracula movies with Christopher Lee!”

Hannah laughed.  As cringe-inducing as they were, she had to admit she missed his dumb movie references. "I miss you…”

"I miss you too.  How are things there?"

"Oh, wonderful.  Slappy, Zach and I are married now!"

"Really?"

"Yep!  We got married in October!"

"Oh...oh right...I'm sorry I couldn't be there..."

"Please don't be...we missed you and Champ but we made it work.  The wedding was wonderful!"

At the mention of Champ's name, Slappy sighed deeply.  "Um...Hannah, is Zach there?"

"Oh...yes, he's right here!  Hold on," she handed the phone to Zach.

"Hey Slaps!"

"Hey man..."

"Hey, you haven't called us in forever!" he teased.  Slappy laughed weakly on the other end. Zach's smile faded.

"Hey man, you okay?"

"Yeah, it...it just hurts to laugh.  I’m in the hospital, got hit. Zach, I gotta tell you something..."

"Slappy, you don't have to apologize again.  You've done enough repentance, unless you're planning on becoming a priest when you get home," Zach laughed.

"No, no, it's not that..." Slappy took a deep breath and paused, squeezing his eyes together as he started to cry.  It was probably the hardest thing he'd ever had to do in his life. "Zach...Champ's gone."

Zach's smile faded. Everyone peered in at him.

"What's he saying...?" Mary-Ellen asked, but Wally shushed her.

"What...?" Zach asked.

He could tell Slappy was crying now. "Champ is dead."

Slappy closed his eyes as there was a pause and he could tell Zach was lowering the phone to tell everyone.  Zach was doing exactly that, lowering the phone slowly with a stunned, half sad expression on his face. Stine, Hannah, Mary-Ellen and Wally looked up at him.

"Zach, what is it?" Hannah asked, fearing the worst.

"Champ is dead," he said in a simple, quiet monotone.  Hannah's heart broke as she watched tears run down her husband's normally stoic face.  She cried too and hugged him.

"Zach?"

Zach raised the phone back up to his ear. "I'm here, man..."

"I want you to know I didn't hurt him."

"I...I know, man...what...what happened?"

"The skinny of it is that after I lost my unit, I was wandering around for a while until he found me.  Well...I guess he shot at me thinking I was a Charlie, more like. Anyway, we were hanging for a bit and the next day, Charlies ambushed us.  He got hit. It was in his hip, but...he bled out. The bullet got to his liver and he bled out. I...I'm so sorry,” he took a deep breath as green tears stained his face.

Zach sighed and another pause between the two men occurred.

"Zach, I'm so sorry..."

"Don't...don't apologize, man..." Slappy could tell Zach was crying.

"Zach?"

"Yeah?"

"Please don't tell his parents.  I wanna tell them myself when I get home."

"Slappy--"

"Zach, it's best they hear it from me."

Zach sighed and nodded. "Okay, man.  Hey, Mary-Ellen's here with your little girl..."

Slappy felt like he should feel joy, but hearing about his daughter just made him feel even worse.  "Oh...c...can you put her on?"

Zach smiled through tears and handed the phone down to Mary-Ellen, who was holding Annabelle. "He wants to talk to you..."

She smiled and took the phone. "Slappy??"

Slappy sighed hearing her voice. "Hi honey..."

"Slappy...are you okay?"

"I'm fine, it just...hurts a little..."

"Slappy..." Mary-Ellen used the tone of voice that let Slappy know that she could tell he was lying.  He managed a slight, weak chuckle.

"Okay, it hurts a lot."

"Slappy, I'm so glad you're okay...when you weren't responding to our letters, I--"

"Mary-Ellen, I'm alive and I'm fine."

"I...I know..."

They both went silent. "Slappy, Annabelle is growing so fast!  She's crawling everywhere and babbling. I was trying to feed her and she kept banging her spoon," Mary-Ellen giggled, trying to lighten the mood.

There was silence on the other end and Mary-Ellen instantly regretted telling him anything about their daughter.  She could tell he was probably already filled with so much guilt about missing her birth, among her other milestones.  Finally, she heard a quiet voice on the other end say,

"What does she look like?"

Mary-Ellen felt instantly relieved. "Oh Slappy, just like you...she has your mouth and your hair, even your ears..."

Slappy smiled knowingly as he finished. "The only thing she has from you is her eyes.  The three b's: big, beautiful and blue."

Mary-Ellen smiled. "I miss you..."

"I miss you too, babe."

"Slappy, would you...like to say hi to your daughter?"

More silence and Mary-Ellen felt regret again.  But her eyes widened as she heard him say,

"I...I'd love to..."

She smiled and held the phone up to the doll baby, who grabbed the receiver and started to suck on it, causing Slappy to hear a muffled noise on the other end.  Mary-Ellen laughed.

"Sorry...she's sucking on the phone."

"I hear...hey honeybun!"

"BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH!!!"

Slappy chuckled and wiped a tear from his eye.  His little girl's voice. He was hearing his little girl's voice for the first time.  He wished he could hear it in person and see her too, but that was the only thing that could replace this moment.

"Say 'hi, Papa!'" Mary-Ellen encouraged Annabelle to talk to her father.

"Blahblah."

"Hi, sweetie!" Slappy smiled.  Mary-Ellen laughed.

"She's been babbling up a storm.  I show her your picture every night before bed," she sniffed. "and then I go to bed and it's too big without you..." Wally rolled his eyes and Lorraine rapped him on the elbow with a rolled up newspaper.

"I know, hun.  Hopefully I'll be home soon," Slappy didn't know what else to say.

"I hope so."

Silence passed between the two lovers.  Mary-Ellen stared at everyone else and they quickly got the message and left.  Mary-Ellen sat down on the couch twirling the phone cord around her finger like she'd seen Hannah do so many times when she and Zach were still giddy teenagers in love.

"I know I have to give everyone else a turn to talk to you, but...Slappy...hearing your voice now...it's as if I'm hearing it in my ear next to me..."

"I've been going crazy for a year without you, babe..."

She giggled. "You always know all the right things to say."

She felt his smile as he said, "I got magic powers, honey."

Sexy silence. "What are you wearing?"

"Slappyyyy!  Just my white dress."

They both giggled. "What else is going on, honey?"

"Well...I...I didn't want Papa to be supporting me and Annabelle by himself so...Hannah helped me get a part time job at the diner where she works."

"You know I don't like you working, Mary-Ellen."

"Slappy, why can't I work?"

"You're supposed to stay home and take care of my child."

"Can't do that without money."

He sighed. "I guess I have to get with the times, don't I?"

"Yeah.  You do."

"Well, I...I'm proud of ya, baby."

"Thanks."

"What, are you mad at me now?"

"No, I just...Slappy, a lot's changed here in America and you're gonna _have_ to get with the times.  Next you'll be saying women shouldn't read because we start getting ideas and thinking."

Slappy rolled his eyes. "Mary-Ellen, I'm not saying that.  What I'm saying is when I get home, I'll get a great gig and make a lot of money so you won't have to work."

She smiled.  "I know, baby," she sighed. "I think Wally wants to talk to you."

He looked down. "I don't wanna let go of your voice..."

"Neither do I..."

They listened to each other's breathing.

"I love you."

Mary-Ellen sighed, closing her eyes. "Say it again, it keeps me awake..."

Slappy's heart melted as his lover quoted Ingrid Bergman's famous line from _Notorious_ that he had taught her when they exchanged words of love back in their heady days of romance in the book _._

"I love you..."

"Bye, Slappy."

"Bye, darlin.  Tell my little girl I love her."

"I will..."

She handed the phone to Wally.

“Hey Slaps.”

“Hey man, how’s it goin’?”

“Not bad, just got off work.  I work with Zach now at the shipyards in Wilmington, fixin’ submarines.”

Slappy laughed. “Gearhead.”

Wally laughed.  “You know me, man!”

“How’s med school?”

Wally’s tone changed. “I’m...not in med school.”

“What?  Thought you were applying.”

“We don’t have school in the book, Slappy.  I got no test scores, no grades, nothing to show I’m qualified to be a doc.”

“Damn.  Should’ve joined up, brother.  You could’ve gotten in for free.”

“Money’s not the issue, man.  I make good bank fixing subs. It’s the smarts.”

“Yeah, I get it…”

“Hey uh...speaking of which, you’re in a hospital, right?  How are the nurses?”

“Oh, uh…” he smiled flirtatiously at the nurse,  who was changing the dressing on his stomach. “they’re...takin’ pretty good care of me!” She eyed him flirtatiously.

Wally laughed his evil laugh.  “Methinks there's a little hospital hanky-panky goin' on to get you to, ah…’feel better.’”

“Aww, come on, man!  I can’t cheat on Mary-Ellen, she’s got my kid!”

“You already did in Tokyo,” Wally reminded him gravely.

“How did you…?  Yeah I did, but that was over a year ago.  We’re gonna get married. You tell her that!”

Wally burst out laughing.  “YOU’RE gonna get married? You, Slappy Stine, are gonna get married?”

"I mean...gotta settle down sometime."

Wally was still laughing. "Okay, man.  Hey, here's Lorraine!"

Lorraine took the phone. "Slappy??  Slappy you-don't-have-a-middle-name-I-don't-think Stine!!  You get home this INSTANT!!" 

Slappy laughed.  "I'm tryin', Lorraine."

"NOW!!"

"Yes ma'am."

"And....I love you and I miss you.  We all do."

"I love you and miss you guys too."

Lorraine looked behind her and saw Stine looking at her with big, sad eyes. "Slappy...do you want to talk to your father?"

Slappy's heart caught in his wooden throat.  He didn't do anything wrong, but talking to Stine always filled him with nerves ever since the incident.  "Yes...please."

Lorraine nodded. "Bye, Slappy," she handed the phone to Stine.

"Slappy?"

"Papa."

Silence passed between father and son.  Slappy decided to break it, which was rare for him.

"How you holdin' up, Papa?"

"Fine."

"I know when you're lying to me, Papa," this time, he didn't say it in a sinister voice.  He used the tone of a son that cared about his father.  Stine chuckled.

"All right, maybe not so good.  I miss you, son...and I'm at deadline for a new book."

Slappy laughed.  "Let me guess which one's more important to you."

"Both are..."

Slappy said nothing except, "You should write somethin' about the jungle, Papa.  Lots of scary things in there.  Like tigers.  Possessed Tiger, you could call it.  Or something."

Stine laughed. "That's not a bad idea!"

"Papa...are you eating?"

Stine sighed. "No..."

"If I come home and you're skinny, I WILL do 'it' again," Slappy teased, laughing.

Stine laughed. "All right!  All right, I'll eat.  I just miss you, Slappy.  More than I expected to.  I mean, I expected to miss you, but not this much."

Silence, then:

"What was that about sending me here to learn my lesson?"

Stine sighed, closing his eyes. "Slappy, I shouldn't have said that.  And I shouldn't have said that in my letters to you.  That's not right to say to a man being sent to war, regardless of what you did.  Can you forgive me?"

"It doesn't matter if that's not what you sent me here to learn.  I learned it anyway.  I've lost everybody, Papa.  Champ, Scooter, the rest of my unit.  The only person I haven't lost is a fucking Vietnamese d-word that I found because he was shooting at me because he was too stupid to realize that he and I are on the same side.  Oh, guess what else?  I killed his fucking cousin a year ago and his aunt hates me."

"Wait, a Vietnamese d-word...?"

"Yeah.  You know I don't like saying the word.  Found him following me when I was in the jungle.  He's the reason I'm alive.  They did a blood transfusion between me and him."

"And what about his cousin?"

"I told you about him in a letter.  He was the first guy I killed when I got here.  Wanted to be a doctor.  Stole his entire future from him.  I told you I was gonna find his family and apologize.  Turned out pretty well.  Crazy old Asian lady yelled at me in a language I can't understand."

"Well, how did you expect her to react?  To welcome you with open arms?"

"Papa, you don't get it.  I kept seeing Lorraine at the police station."

Stine's eyes widened. "Oh..."

"Even when I was under the anesthesia, even now when I'm wide awake, I'm still seeing her damned face when her village was under attack.  It looked just like Lorraine's that night.  What if that kid was Zach during the...thing..."

Stine sighed; he should never have told Slappy to gain empathy while he was in Vietnam.  He was obsessing over it now.

"Papa?"

"Yes, Slappy?"

"Remember when we were watching Laurel & Hardy and it was the short where Ollie's in the hospital and Stan brings him--"

Stine smiled and both men said together, "Hard-boiled eggs and nuts...MM!" and both men laughed.

"I feel like Stan right now, Papa.  Wrong place at the wrong time."

"You're not like Stan, Slappy...I'm glad you learned empathy, but you don't need to stress over it.  Like Zach says:  take a chill pill."

Slappy chuckled and shook his head. "Papa, just because you write kids books doesn't mean you can use our lingo."

"You're right..." the older Stine smiled and laughed, but got serious again as he overheard Zach and Hannah making plans.  "Zach says they won't do Champ's funeral until you're home."

"If the Army can find his body."

"What...?"

"I buried him."

"What??  With your powers?"

"No, not the easy way.  Champ didn't deserve that.  I just...dug a hole with my hands and buried him.  I didn't know what else to do."

"Then...we'll wait till you're home for the memorial service."

"Thank you...you don't have to."

"We need to.  You're the last person he saw before he died."

"I don't wear that with a badge of honor, Papa..."

"I know..."

A moment of silence passed, paying respects to the deceased young man.  Stine broke it.  

"It must be early there, you're 15 hours ahead of us."

Slappy looked at the small, rectangular clock on his bedside table. "It's only nine in the morning."

"Get some sleep, kid.  Call us again if you can.  And...thank you for calling us now.  I'm...glad you thought of us."

Slappy nodded.  "I'm glad I did too."

"Bye, Slappy."

"Papa?"

"Yes, Slappy?"

He waited a bit as if he were trying to find the right words to say.  "I love you.  Happy Thanksgiving."

Stine smiled, brimming with pride.  "I love you too, son.  Same to you.  Get home soon."

"I will," they both hung up.  The nurse smiled.

"Sounds like you got a groovy family!"

Slappy nodded smiling to himself. "I do.  I really do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I got carried away with the home videos. I got too many ideas! Lol hope you enjoyed and I hope this makes up for the terrible chapter that was Chapter 13, lol. Like and/or comment :)


	15. Visitors in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slappy gets some visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slang:
> 
> Beat the drag = cruise up and down a road looking for girls
> 
> Check you later = see you later
> 
> Talk jive = making no sense; talking nonsense
> 
> Also I realize I messed up Annabelle's age in the last chapter. She's 7 months. I went back and edited for this chapter and the last chapter. Sorry!!! Also, sorry for the long wait!! I had major writer's block on what to do with this chapter, but it's here! Feel free to like and/or comment. :)

_"Slappy!!  Slappy!!!"_

_Slappy ran like hell through the never-ending thick leaves of the jungle towards the voice that was calling for him.  For a moment, the canopy cleared and he saw the bright light of day and a figure lying on the ground, wounded. Slappy saw that the figure was human and had dark skin._

_Scooter._

_"Scoots, hold on!  I'm comin'!!"_

_Scooter and the daylight were quickly covered up by more leaves as Slappy ran even faster through them.  They seemed to go on forever._

_Finally, he reached the end and daylight and heat engulfed him.  He looked down panting and was met with Scooter looking back up at him, coughing up blood, his face bloody, his mouth panting and his eyes paralyzed with fear.  Slappy fell to his knees (even though with his height, there was no need) and pulled his bandages out of his bag._

_"You're gonna be okay, man...."_

_All Scooter could say was "Slappy...Slappy..." Although Slappy noticed that his mouth was forming other words, “Slappy” was the only thing that came out of his mouth.    The cries of "Slappy" began to come from multiple voices. The dummy looked up and saw Champ staggering towards him like a zombie, disheveled and bloody from head to toe and calling the puppet's name, even though his mouth, like Scooter's, was forming other words._

_Bloody soldiers converged on him.  One was Thao, the North Vietnamese soldier whom Slappy had killed in his first battle.  Another was Pete, one more was Doug. The calls of "Slappy" got louder and louder. The puppet covered his ears._

_"SLAPPY!!!!"_

 

Slappy gasped and was jolted awake, panting, his glowing green sweat visible in the darkness.  He quickly but carefully leaned over and turned the lamp on his nightstand on and looked around and breathed a sigh of relief as he discovered that he was still in the hospital, in his bed and in his gown.  He gulped and closed his eyes; he'd had another nightmare again. They'd been popping up in his brain a lot in the past few days and it was always the same few memories; Scooter dying, Champ dying, Thao dying, the children in the village dying, or all four mashed together into one giant colossal, hellish flashback.

Slappy’s eyes adjusted to the darkness as he became more awake.  They scanned the room once, then twice before he saw them: two wide green eyes sitting in the chair across from his bed, making him jump.  The owner of the eyes laughed and came over to Slappy’s bedside, pulling the chair with him.

“Was wondering when you were gonna show up,” Slappy smiled and gingerly sat up as he and Wally shook hands. “How are ya, brother?”

“Fine, fine.  You don't look so hot, though."

"Yeah, well...a grenade full of shrapnel will do that to ya."

"Jesus...can I see?" Wally's face lit up at the prospect of seeing gore as they always did, making Slappy roll his eyes.  He reluctantly lifted up his gown to reveal the scars, bandages and faded green from his blood loss. Wally’s eyes widened.  

“Wow...what happened?"

"I was in a village and the Charlies attacked.  I tried to get the kids out of it, but they brought the works; planes, machine guns, everything.  They hit me and I was on the ground blacked out in a matter of seconds."

Slappy showed him the deep gash on his leg that the tube and vial of glowing green blood was attached to.

"How'd they get our blood?"

Slappy nodded towards the window to the hallway. "There's a guy--well, a puppet here.  I found him trying to chase me down. The short of it is that he's injured too and he gave me a blood transfusion."

"A Vietnamese puppet...?"

"Yeah.  Didn't Papa tell you about him?  Apparently, he has the soul of an ancient sorcerer in him, like us."

"Was he...written?  By Dad?"

"Guess not.  It's a Vietnamese legend, I guess.  Kid is a living prophecy."

Wally shrugged.  "Far out. Literally.  Anyways, I got a present for ya." He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a silver flask and held it up, smiling.  Slappy chuckled slightly and felt the stabbing pain and deleted his laughter, but kept his smile. Wally smiled too.

"Know how much you like your whiskey, pal!" he tossed the flask to Slappy, who caught it before it hit his bullet-riddled stomach.

"Thanks man...they told me I can't drink, though."

Wally snorted. "And since when have YOU listened to authority?"

Slappy shook his head and looked at his brother. "Things aren't the way they used to be, Wals."

Wally looked at his darker-haired brother with his muscular arms (Wally worked out and was naturally bigger than Slappy) folded, looking at him, confused. "You're not dying, Slaps.  We can't die, remember?"

Slappy shook his head closing his eyes. "You haven't been to war, man."

"You're right.  I haven't."

Slappy ignored his brother's attitude and continued, looking at his sheets. "When you're out there, like I was, and you got bullets and bombs and grenades and God knows what else flying around and everyone around you IS dying...you start to think you _can_ die.  And then you start living like every day's your last."

Wally watched his brother in his reflective state.

"And you see your friends die.  And I know it's not Papa's fault, but it makes me think, 'how could he be so selfish to make me immortal when everyone else around me can die?'  Think about it, Wally: Papa will die, Hannah will die, Zach will die, everyone around us will die and we'll still be here long after everyone's gone."

"You know, there's ways to put us to sleep for good if you wanna die that badly," Wally said in a confused grave voice.

"Don't say that, of course I don't wanna die.  I'm just pointing it out."

"Well I'm sure the sorcerer who created us is looking up at you from whatever layer of hell he's in appreciating the thought you've given this."

Slappy snorted. "You learn to read while I was gone and the first book you pick up is The Inferno?"

A flash of lightning pierced the room, startling Slappy.

 _I'm starting to hate that we can do that,_ he thought.  Wally pointed at him with Slappy's flask back in his hand.

"Hey!  That ain't true, I also read Playboy!" he took a swig.

"Hey, I thought that was mine?"

"You said you couldn't drink!"

"That don't mean I don't want it!  And speaking of Playboy, what's the skinny on you and Jillian?"

Wally laughed. "That ship sailed a long time ago.  I'm a free man, buddy! As a matter of fact, just before I teleported here, I scored with a foxy little bunny I met at the disco last night!"

Slappy shook his head. "Wally, when are you gonna grow up?"

Wally laughed again. "When are YOU gonna chill?  It's the 70s, brother! Live a little! Boogie at the disco!"

"The what?"

"The disco!"

"What the hell is that?"

"Oh man, it's groovy!  You know the ice rink where Zach and Champ let the Abonimable Snowman out that one time?  They turned it into this groovy place where we can dance all night and meet groovy chicks and take em home!  We've been trying to get Dad to come, but...he's too broken up over missing you."

Slappy looked at him. "Papa is?"

Wally nodded slowly. "He talks about you every day, man.  When he actually talks, that is."

"What do you mean?  Usually he never shuts up."

"He shuts himself in his office all the time.  It's gotten better since you called and he knows you're okay, but...before then, it was awful.  He wouldn't talk, he wouldn't eat...Lorraine had to bring him all his meals. He's lost a lot of weight.  Annabelle's the only thing that makes him happy nowadays."

Slappy just stared at the wall across from him, his lips pursed together.  Wally noticed. He always did.

"He misses you, Slaps, and I KNOW you miss him too," he pointed his hand with the flask at him.

"He's faking it and you're all falling for it, hook, line and sinker!"

"You're fighting a war and you're his goddamned son, why WOULDN'T he be worried about you???" Wally exclaimed incredulously.  "Look, what you did--what WE did, really, even though you were the brains behind it, we were the monsters--it was fucked up. It was.  If even I can admit it was fucked up, it was. But they've moved on. Hannah and Zach are married now, Champ is--"

"Don't mention Champ.  Please. I have enough guilt over that as it is."

Wally looked down and lowered his voice.  "Sorry. What...what happened that day?"

Slappy sighed and closed his eyes, dreading having to relive that horrible day yet again. "I found him and the next day, we were ambushed by Charlies.  One...shot him in the hip and...it punctured his liver and he bled out."

"Well, you can't do anything about that, you were fighting the rest of them off."

"I could've shot the guy that shot him."

"Slappy..." Wally shook his head. "you can't have guilt over everything that happens.  Uncontrollable shit happens and there's nothing you can do about it."

Slappy, who was already starting to cry again, turned his body towards Wally, ignoring the pain and the fact that an IV was in his arm, and pointed to himself and the red-haired dummy saw his brother's tear-stained face.

"YOU DON'T FUCKING GET IT!  I'VE HAD NIGHTMARES ABOUT THAT KID DYING EVER SINCE THE DAY HE DIED AND THEY ONLY GOT WORSE WHEN I GOT AN ACTUALLY HALFWAY DECENT PLACE TO SLEEP!!  I HAD TO TELL MY SISTER AND MY BROTHER-IN-LAW THAT THEIR BEST FRIEND WAS DEAD AND I WAS THE LAST PERSON WHO SAW HIM ALIVE!!! I HAD NO IDEA IF THEY WERE GONNA ACCUSE ME OF KILLING HIM!!  SO FUCK OFF WITH YOUR 'SHIT HAPPENS' BULLSHIT, OKAY? I'VE LOST TWO OF MY BEST FRIENDS AND MY ENTIRE UNIT!! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO LOSE PEOPLE! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO HAVE NIGHTMARES OF THEIR DEATHS EVERY.  FUCKING. NIGHT. SO FUCK OFF!"

"I THINK ABOUT LOSING YOU EVERY DAY!" Green tears streamed down Wally's wooden face. "WE ALL DO!"

Slappy stared at him, his jaw clenched and flexing, as more tears came.  Wally pointed into the darkness of the room, still crying.

"Your sister just got married!  She should be as happy as a clam, but guess what?  She's not, because her brother's at war. She cries over you EVERY.  NIGHT, Slappy! Your girlfriend shows your daughter your picture every night before she goes to sleep and she sings her a lullaby about you still loving her even though you've gone to war.  Even Annabelle knows you're gone and she can't even talk yet. And then she goes to bed and cries. Do you know what happens when Zach and I go to the peace rallies in Philly, or we go to work and people are sharing stories about their brothers, nephews, sons, uncles that died fighting in this stupid cash grab for the dumbasses on Pennsylvania Avenue and we have to fight back tears because we have a bad feeling that that might be you someday?  And your father, your fucking father who you think couldn't care less about you, sits in his study and cries over you and asks God to bring you home. Your problem is that you think that what you did fucked you for life, and for a time, yeah, it did, but Jesus Christ, Slappy, no one wants you to fucking die and I just gave you FIVE examples of people that give a damn about you!"

Slappy's hands were clasped together on his forehead.  The dark-haired puppet took shuddering sighs, his tears staining his face.  Wally shook his head and lowered his voice.

"I just don't know what it's gonna take to make you believe us.  Slappy, if you do enough good deeds, people may not forget your past, but they'll forgive you and you've been forgiven!  I don't know how many times you need to hear that! And if you saved those kids, you're a hero!"

Slappy sighed and rested against the pillow.

"Do you get it now?"

"I'm tired."

They both chuckled and Wally shook his head.  Slappy looked at his red-haired brother.

"No, it's...I appreciate it, man."

"You're not gonna try and hug me now, are ya?"

They both laughed and Wally hugged him carefully because of his stitches.

"We love you, brother.  Don't forget it."

"I love you too, man.  What about med school?"

"Well...I've stopped applying to schools.  I'm workin' at the docks to save up."

"Fixing subs?"

"It's good work.  AND it's honest work.  And...maybe it'll get me Jillian back."

Slappy smirked. "So you DO still love her!"

"Well sure, I never said I didn't.  It's just..." he looked off to the side thinking and then looked down. "I'm jealous of you, Slaps."

Slappy raised an eyebrow. "You wanna almost get killed every day?  Ask Papa to give us the power to trade places."

"Obviously not that part, but...you know I always say I never wanna get married and I never want kids?  Well, taking care of Annabelle while you're gone, working...I mean...I'm her uncle, but it feels like I'm her father while you're gone.  Y...you get what I mean, right? I mean, I know you're her father, but because you're gone, it feels like--"

"Wally!  I get it," Slappy laughed.

"Yeah...anyway, it makes me want to settle down, raise kids of my own."

"Soooo why not start a family with Jillian?"

Wally shook his head. "I messed things up too much."

Slappy rested his head against the pillow.  "You know, there are--"

"DON'T tell me there are plenty of fish in the sea!" Wally pointed the flask at him. "You always say that and I KNOW that, that's why I'm bringin' home a new fish every night."

"Oh, Papa must LOVE that," Slappy said dryly.  Wally ignored him.

"But I'm jealous of what you and Mary-Ellen have."

Slappy looked at him. "Really?  Wally, all we do is fight."

"But you have a family now, man.  She changed you, whether you wanna admit it or not.  You and I--well, after we got over our, uh...initial differences--used to beat the drag looking for chicks, but then the cheap piece of plastic comes outta the book and it's 'sorry, Wally, I can't go out tonight, I got a girl' and suddenly, she's knocked up and you're Mr. Responsibility!" He made his voice deeper. "'oh, look at me, I'm a soldier now, fighting those commies with a wife and kid back home.' Like what the fuck, man?  That's not you! That's not the Slappy I know!"

"Hey, don't call my girl a cheap piece of plastic!  And she's not my wife...yet."

"See what I mean???  She has you whipped, man!"

"Wally, I have a child with her, what do you want me to do?  You all keep telling me times have changed, but you still want me to go cruising for chicks.  I'm a papa now and...I love Mary-Ellen."

"And I love Jillian!"

'So get back with Jillian!"

Wally hopped out of the chair and said defiantly, pointing his finger with the flask at Slappy, "You know what?  I WILL get back with Jillian! And we'll have great sex and get married and...and..."

Slappy raised both eyebrows at him. "And?"

Wally stood at the foot of Slappy's bed staring into space with a stunned look of realization on his face. "Oh my God..."

Slappy smirked. "Welcome to adulthood, Wally Wood."

Wally sat back down, still stunned, and finished the alcohol in the flask, gulping down.

"Hey, that was mine!" Slappy protested.  Wally's eyes glowed green, making Slappy cower.

"But...you need it more than I do."

Wally's eyes went back to their usual emerald green and he nodded, smiling. "Yeah.  I'm gonna settle down and marry Jillian."

Slappy smiled. "Have a bunch of red-headed kids?"

"Six of em!"

"SIX???  Jesus, you have balls."

Wally got a look on his face. "Speaking of kids....I have another surprise for ya.  I'll check you later, buddy. Get home soon."

"Hey, wait!"

But Wally was gone after another lightning strike.  Slappy was alone again in the dimly lit room. He looked over at his bedside clock and saw it was 12:30 in the morning.  Awake and not wanting to go back to sleep to have another nightmare, he took the clicker and turned on the small TV. All in the Family was on.  Slappy smiled widely; All in the Family was a show that he guessed had just started airing while he was fighting and he liked it because he could envision Archie Bunker as Stine in about 20 years.  Hell, he was Stine even now, except Stine wasn't a racist or generally an overall bigot. Slappy was thinking that Stine was like Archie in the curmudgeonly sense. In fact, Slappy saw a lot of parallels between the Bunkers and his family; Stine as Archie and Zach and Hannah as Mike and Gloria.  And Lorraine was definitely Edith. But who would he be? Maybe he'd be Meathead, since he and his father disagreed on nearly everything.

Slappy could only take so much of Archie shouting and it was getting late.  Around 2 a.m. he fell asleep with the TV on. He was soon tossing and turning again.  

_Sgt. Morris was holding him back from Scooter, who was on the ground covered head to toe in blood._

_"Sarge, I can save him!  Please!!!"_

_"You can't, just let him die!  We have Charlies comin' in on us from all sides and it'll be a half hour till air support gets here!"_

_"SLAPPY!!!" Scooter called, choking._

_"Scooter, hold on, man, I'm coming!!"_

_He finally broke loose of Sgt. Morris' hold and ran over to Scooter, but Scooter looked up at him inquisitively._

_"Slappy?"_

 

"Please...please...let me save him, I can save him..."

"Slappy?" he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"AHHHHH!!!!"

He jolted awake again, sweating.  He looked to his right. Nothing. He looked to his left and thought he saw Mary-Ellen holding Annabelle, but looked away thinking he was seeing things.  He turned just his head around, doing a double-take.

"Mary-Ellen?" he shifted his whole body around carefully.  Mary-Ellen smiled.

"Hi Slappy."

"What are you doing here?  It's dangerous!"

"We're in a hospital, Slappy.  I think we'll be okay," she giggled. "I, uh, brought someone..."

Slappy's face was the face of a prospector who had just struck gold.  He looked at his daughter and then back at his girlfriend. Annabelle whimpered and hid her face in Mary-Ellen's shoulder.

"It's okay, sweetie!  It's your papa!"

Annabelle peeked at her father with one eye.  Slappy smiled and waved.

"She's already so big..."

Mary-Ellen nodded. "She's already seven months!"

She held her out towards him, silently asking if he wanted to hold her, to which Slappy enthusiastically nodded and said yes.  He took her gently, cradling her in his arms and patted the space next to him for Mary-Ellen to get in the bed, which she did.

"Hiiii pretty girllll!" he smiled down at her, in awe that he was holding his daughter without being home first.  It felt like cheating because they had used their powers to get here, but Slappy didn't care; he was holding his little girl.

"She really does have your eyes," he mused, looking his daughter over for the first time, her bright blue doll eyes making his heart melt.

"And your hair,” Mary-Ellen reminded him.

He kissed the plastic baby's forehead. "She's perfect.  The perfect mix of her two beautiful parents."

Mary-Ellen giggled, rolling her eyes, but smiled as Annabelle lifted her tiny plastic fingers to touch her father's face, just as she had touched his picture all those months at home in her crib.  But now, she was touching the real thing. Slappy's lips curved into a smile and he bent his head closer so she wouldn't have to reach as far. He smiled and pressed his nose to hers. Father and daughter both smiled as Slappy rubbed his nose with hers, but the little doll began to whimper and cry.

"Oh nooo, shh, shh, shhhhh...." Slappy cooed and made kissing noises.

"Oh noo, it's not you, dear, she's just hungry.  Would you like to feed her?" Mary-Ellen reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle full of milk and handed it to Slappy, who looked at her, wondering what to do.

"Just hold it up to her mouth!"

Slappy did so and the little doll girl took the bottle and sucked.

"She's a smart cookie, ain't she?  Just like her papa! She got any powers yet?"

"Not that we can tell just yet, but Papa might write some in for her!  When he...feels up to it."

Slappy nodded glumly. "Wally told me about him."

Mary-Ellen nodded slowly. "She does have one power:  keeping him alive. He may be depressed, but the second he sees her, he lights up like a Christmas tree!"

"I didn't think he'd care that much about me being gone..."

Mary-Ellen nodded. "Wally said you learned your lesson about us missing you."

Slappy nodded, looking at his girl, then back at his daughter, who let the bottle go.

"I think she's done.  Now don't yank the bottle out.  Just gently pull it out."

Slappy gently moved the bottle out of Annabelle's mouth and the little doll giggled and spit milk in Slappy's face.  He looked at her sternly.

"Is that any way to treat your father, even if this wasn't your first time meeting me?"

Mary-Ellen giggled and got out a handkerchief and wiped her face.  "Wally taught her that."

"Of course he did," he watched her wipe their daughter's face. "You got this mama thing down pat, don't ya?"

"It just came so naturally to me...I didn't think it would," she said, wiping his face too.  "Lorraine and Hannah help a lot, of course. So do Zach and Wally.  Papa does too...when he feels up to it."

Slappy frowned, but changed the subject. "And you're working?"

"Yup.  I work today, actually."

Slappy's heart broke. "So you can't spend the night...?"

"Not really...I work the night shift tonight.  It's 2:30 there now. I gotta be at work at 5."

He snorted, raising an eyebrow. "What are you worried aboutttt, you can teleport, remember?"

Mary-Ellen laughed. "I gotta change into my uniform!"

"Is it a sexy uniform?"

Mary-Ellen lightly slapped him on his non-IV arm as he laughed. "Slappy, our daughter is here!  This is a rare request, though. Why do you want me to stay so bad?"

Slappy's smile faded. "I've been having nightmares..."

Mary-Ellen's smile faded too as she listened to her love talk. "I'm always running in them.  Running towards Scooter--y'know, my buddy--or running towards Champ, or one of the guys in my unit, or towards the commie I killed my first day, or one of the kids in the village, or somebody...I'm always running towards them and they're always covered in blood begging me to help them.  'Slappy! Slappy!' is all I hear, even though I can see their mouths move and they're trying to say something else...all they can say is my name. And I'm trying to save them, but I just...I can't. They die. Every time."

Annabelle whimpered and reached up toward him, trying to comfort him. "Aw, hun, it's okay..." he held her gently against him.  "Papa's just...stressed."

Mary-Ellen frowned and rested his head on her shoulder and stroked Annabelle's back. "She knows when people are upset.  That's another one of her powers."

"She has good powers.  She won't use them for evil like her papa did," Slappy sighed, stroking his daughter's back too.

Annabelle soon closed her eyes, resting on Slappy's lap and Mary-Ellen bent her head and gave Slappy a soft peck on the lips.

"You can't just do that and not give me another one!"

Mary-Ellen giggled and bent and kissed him again.  He smiled and nestled into her.

"I miss you babe...ow," he winced and gritted his teeth as a quick, sharp pain came in his stomach from cuddling.  Mary-Ellen lifted her head.

"Can I see?" She felt Slappy nod into her shoulder and lifted up his hospital gown.  She put her hand over her mouth when she saw the stitches, holes, faded blood and gauze on his stomach and the gash and green blood in his leg.  She started to cry.

"Oh, Slappy...look at you..."

Slappy brushed her hair back "I'm fine...I'm fine...shhh..." he cupped both of her cheeks.  Mary-Ellen looked into his eyes as if she were seeing him for the first time.

"My brave soldier..."

Slappy smiled and winked. "That's me, baby!"

She giggled and kissed him.  He rested his head on her shoulder.

"Mary-Ellen?"

"Hm?"

"I was thinking...what if we were alive in the 20s?"

She looked down at him. "The 20s?  Like the Roaring 20s?"

"Sure.  I'd have one of those straw boaters.  You know, like Harold Lloyd used to wear.  And you'd be a flapper."

She smiled. "Would I be a pretty flapper?"

He smiled and looked up at her. "The prettiest flapper of em all," and pecked her cheek.

Mary-Ellen giggled and shook her head. "What's got you talking like this?"

"Ahhh, it's the meds they got me on.  They make me talk jive."

Mary-Ellen giggled again and pressed her finger to his lips, making him look back up at her again. "You know how you always say I talk too much?"

She leaned in, giving him a sexy kiss, her lips lingering.

"Looks like you have that problem too..." she whispered seductively, biting her lip.

"Right now, we both do..." came his low, sexy mumble back against her lips before they met again in a passionate kiss.

"Slappy, I miss you..." she pawed at his gown, making him feel sharp, stabbing pain and causing him to pull back.

"It hurts?" she asked.  Slappy nodded.

"Maybe we should...wait till I'm home.  Plus, the kid's here and, you know..."

Mary-Ellen smiled and nodded.  She looked behind him at the clock and saw that it was now 3:00 in the morning.

"I should get back anyway..."

"I'm sorry..."

"No!  No, don't apologize, it's not you, I just gotta get ready for work!" she giggled.

She picked up Annabelle, now sound asleep, from his lap and the two parents looked down at their daughter, Slappy adjusting the collar of her shirt.  He sighed.

"I feel like this is cheating..."

Mary-Ellen looked at him. "Why...?"

"Because we have teleportation powers.  If we didn't, I'd have to wait till I got home to meet her..."

"I mean...it's not like I'm gonna be coming here all the time.  You could get discharged, you could go back to the front tomorrow.  Who knows?"

Slappy nodded. "True..."

Their eyes met again and Mary-Ellen caressed her dummy's wooden face as if she were touching it for the first and last time.  She felt his polished cheek, the lines running from his mouth down his chin, the scratch on his chin.  A single tear fell from her eye.

"Mar...I'm alive, you know that now."

She nodded. "It's still hard cause it feels like you're home...this is how it should be.  Our family together..." she looked at Annabelle, then back at her father. "I know you're living it, but it's so... _maddening_ to watch how many young men are being sent over here to die day after day..."

He nodded and nodded at the TV that was still on. "I see it here too...that's why I watch All in the Family," he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

Mary-Ellen smiled half-heartedly. "Papa watches that too."

Electric silence emanated between them as they looked into each other's eyes for a long time.  They did this in the book too, staring into each other's eyes for what felt like hours as Stine looked on.

"I really have to go, Slappy..." but she kept staring at him, eventually kissing him passionately.  

"I'll come home to you, baby."

Mary-Ellen smiled. "I know you will.  But first, you gotta heal and kill some more commies," she giggled, making him smile.

"I love you..."

"And I love you," she handed him Annabelle and he hugged her for a long time, never wanting to let go, green tears flowing.

"Papa loves you, sweetie...I'm gonna be home soon," Slappy knew he was lying to her, but it put his conscience at ease.  He handed the doll back to her mother, who caressed his cheek and kissed him one last time.

"Goodbye, Slappy..." and with a flash of lightning, she was gone.  Slappy sat in the same position as when she had left him, sighing and looking down at the sheets.  He heard a knock on his open door.  Friday was there on his crutches.  The Vietnamese dummy now sported a prosthetic leg and better English skills, though he still could only manage two words at a time, never complete sentences.

"You score?" he asked.

Slappy shook his head wistfully and pinched his thumb and forefinger together. "This close, man."

Friday smiled and shook his head at him, disappointed. "Night, brother."

Another flash of lightning and the Asian dummy was gone.  

"Hey, come on, I tried!" Slappy called, smiling.  He looked around his room.  For the first time in a long time, he turned the TV and the lamp off and slept content and nightmare-free.

 


	16. By Act of Congress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slappy gets some stunning and exciting news.

Christmas came and went. Mary-Ellen appeared with Annabelle and gave Slappy a present. The two tried to have Christmas sex, but although Slappy was feeling worlds better than he had in November, he still felt pain in his stomach, so he remained scoreless.

Wally showed up on New Year's Eve with another flask and some champagne. This time, Slappy partook of the booze, figuring that since the meds weren't making him feel sick anymore, he could drink. Bad idea. Slappy immediately started vomiting neon green vomit into his puke bucket, causing the nurse to run in and scream at Wally, who immediately disappeared with a flash of lightning, cackling as usual.

1972 came and by February, Slappy was up and walking slowly with his IV.  At first, his leg pained him, but as the wound healed, he was taking bigger and bigger strides.  He wrote the humans in his family that couldn't teleport letters updating his progress and they wrote him back.  

He was recovering and happy about it, but Slappy wondered when he was going to see action again.  The day-to-day of war was grueling, but Slappy wasn't used to lying in a bed doing nothing except walk occasionally.  He was a man of action. He'd ask the nurses every day when he could get back to the front. His answer was always the same:  "soon." Slappy hated that word. Soon. Stine always used to say it when he asked when he could come out of the book. How soon _was_ soon?  He hoped it was sooner than whatever soon meant; the only fun things about the hospital were TV and flirting with the nurses.

At least he was able to get back to eating solid foods instead of just broth and fluids every day.  The nurses were also able to keep doing transfusions of Friday's blood to his to help him get stronger, while still keeping Friday on the road to recovery.  Friday was healing a lot faster than Slappy; the American dummy would hear and see his Vietnamese counterpart running down the hallway like a little kid. Sometimes, the nurses had Slappy and Friday walk together, watching lovingly as the two puppets helped each other.  Friday didn't need much help, though; he was getting more and more used to his prosthetic leg and was getting more muscular because he was able to walk to the gym and work out. The two dummies would start walking together, then Friday would take off running, making Slappy laugh and cry out, "Hey come on, man!  Slow down! You know I can't run yet!" Despite this, he was happy for his Vietnamese friend.

Despite Slappy's physical inability to score, he was sated; Wally kept the supply of Playboys and pulp magazines coming every month.  He never masturbated, but the Playboys kept him company on many a lonely night.

But he still longed for action.  Sexual action, yes. But more than anything, he wanted to get out and fight.  On TV, Cronkite would report the latest from the front lines every night and it made Slappy just want to break free of his IV, get dressed and rejoin a unit, any unit, at the front and start fighting again.  

But despite all of the positive improvements in his life, the nightmares still continued and they only seemed to get worse.  Now  _Slappy_ was the one dying, either by bullets or a grenade blast.  As if those weren't bad enough, Slappy was having dreams about being a POW and he wasn't sure why; he hadn't been captured by any North Vietnamese troops while he was here.  In the dreams, he was being tortured mercilessly in the most painful way he could imagine, whether that be painfully having his power extracted from him, being dismembered or having his glowing green blood drained.  He always woke up screaming, causing the nurses to rush to his room, which added another level of embarrassment.  He told them about the nightmares and they suggested therapy, saying they had a licensed Army therapist who could come and talk to him, which Slappy of course scoffed at and declined; in his eyes, therapy was for crazy people and he wasn't crazy.  

One night in April, he was sighing and watching the footage when his nurse, Christine, came in, smiling sweetly, carrying his breakfast card for the next morning.

"Hey Slappy."

The dummy turned just his head to look at her and smiled charmingly. "Hey beautiful."

Christine rolled her eyes and handed him the card. "You know the drill, Romeo."

Slappy sighed and used his body to push himself into a sitting up position.  His stomach didn't hurt that much anymore; Friday's blood was helping it heal and the scars were fading, but there was internal scarring on the wood that made it hurt just a little bit still.

Slappy looked at his options. "Can't I just have Wheaties?"

Christine chuckled and thought for a moment.  "I'll see what I can do." She wrote "other: Wheaties" down on the card and left.  Slappy wolf-whistled at her ass as she left, causing her to turn and point at him.

"You do that again and I WILL send you to the front like you've been asking!"

Slappy cackled evilly.  She always threatened to do that when he wolf-whistled.  

The next morning, Slappy's new day nurse, a funny, sarcastic African-American woman named Becky, woke him up around nine with his Wheaties, making Slappy's mouth form a wide grin.  Slappy loved Becky; she matched his level of sarcasm and humor perfectly, but he always felt sad when he looked at her; she was from Louisiana and her accent reminded him of Scooter's.

"Hey-heeey, Becky, Christine came through!"

She smiled. "Sure did!  Even put the milk in for ya!"

"Far out!" Slappy sat up as Becky put his tray in front of him.  He picked up his spoon and began to eat, closing his eyes, savoring the taste.  He hadn't had Wheaties since the day he left for Vietnam. Becky smiled.

"Good?"

"Dee-licious!"

Becky chuckled and began to change the dressing on his leg.  The scar was getting a lot smaller, but just like his stomach, there was still internal scarring and he still had the tube of green blood attached.

Slappy was eating heartily when a major in full Army dress greens knocked on the open door.  "Private Stine?"

Slappy looked up and immediately put his spoon down and saluted. "Sir!" with milk dripping down his chin.

The major chuckled and approached Slappy.  He was carrying two envelopes, one blue and one white.

"At ease, son.  I hope you're Catholic; I have an early Easter present for ya."

He handed Slappy both envelopes.  The dummy looked at them curiously, wondering which one he should open first.

"Open the blue one first," the major suggested.  Slappy did so and the minute his eyes read the first two words in big cursive writing on top of the page, his eyes widened.

"Honorable Discharge..." he looked up at the major, who smiled and nodded, urging him to read on.  Slappy's wooden heart pounded and his hands started to tremble. He swallowed and kept reading.

"'Honorable Discharge from the Armed Forces of the United States of America.  This is to certify that Slappy Stine, 005-16-7891, Private First Class' blah blah blah...'was honorably discharged from the Army on the 10th day of April, 1972.  This certificate is awarded as a testimonial of honest and faithful service. This discharge does not relieve the individual named herein from any reserve obligation to which he may be subject under the provisions of the Universal Military Training and Service Act, as amended....'"

Slappy lowered his shaky hands and stared straight at the major's stomach, which he was eye-level with, wide-eyed, hardly daring to believe what he just read.  Was this another nightmare? Slappy guessed it was, but good things generally didn't happen in nightmares, but was this _really_ a good thing?  Slappy was getting acclimated to life in Vietnam after two years and he was ready to fight again, not go home.

Slappy slowly looked up at the major.  "D....discharge?"

The major smiled. "You're going home, son."

Slappy gulped.  "W...what?" he managed to croak out, hoarse.

"Read the other letter."

Slappy did as he was told and read,

"'The President of the United States of America, authorized by Act of Congress, April 4, 1972, has awarded in the name of Congress the Medal of Honor to Private First Class Slappy Stine, United States Army...'"

Slappy's eyes widened and looked at the major again, who nodded again, making him read further.

"'Citation:  for extreme valor and initiative in action at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty.  Private First Class Slappy Stine, U.S. Army, formerly of Company B, 1st Battalion, 506th Infantry, distinguished himself by serving as a rifleman during combat operations on 11 November 1971, Tien Giang Province, Republic of Vietnam.  The village of Cai Lậy was under attack from North Vietnamese forces and innocent civilians were under attack.  Private Stine's abilities allowed him to safely maneuver children and other citizens of the village out of harm's way and into safety' signed by Nixon himself..."

Slappy skimmed through the rest of the letter describing his actions and looked up at the major.  It was one of the few times in his wooden life that he was rendered speechless.

"The Medal of Honor, that's....that's the highest I can get..."

The major smiled and nodded. "You earned it, son.  Those kids have their lives thanks to you."

"But my powers did it, not me..."

The major shook his head. "Doesn't matter how you did it.  You're a hero.  Congratulations," the major shook his hand.  Slappy's wrist was limp; he was still in a dumbfounded trance.

"Once you're mostly healed up, the hospital will let us know and you'll be shipped out.  All medal recipients do a reserve tour in Europe in case we need you."

"Eur... _Europe?!?"_

"That's right.  You'll be on call in case we need you to do another tour, but you'll be in Europe for a few months on reservist duty.  You're free to do as much sightseeing as you want until you get the call to come back here or to the States.  You'll still be paid your weekly stipend.  When you get the call to the States, you'll keep doing reservist duty in Hollywood and then in Washington, where you'll receive your medal probably in January.  From there, your duty ends and you're officially discharged and free to go home!  Congratulations again, son, and thank you for your service!"

The major shook Slappy's still-limp hand again and left.  Slappy just stared down at his sheets in awe. Europe?  Hollywood?  These are places he'd dreamed of going to (or terrorizing) far outside of his little Delawarean bubble.  He could see it all now; the Eiffel Tower, L'Arc de Triomphe, London, Spain, Grauman's Chinese Theatre, the Walk of Fame...he'd get to see it all and all he did was do his job saving those kids.  He almost felt like it wasn't fair; they should be the ones getting to see all these places.

He was snapped out of his daydreaming by Becky's voice. "How about that, child?  A discharge and a European and Hollywood vacation!" she whistled a low whistle. "that's the stuff I've always dreamed of!"

Slappy just alternated staring at the letters and straight ahead of him into space.  Becky saw his dumbfoundedness and became stunned herself.

"Don't tell me you wanna stay here, now!"

Slappy chuckled, smiling. "No, of course I don't wanna stay here.  I just...didn't expect to leave so soon.  And get  _awarded_ for it.  I've never gotten an award for anything."

"Never?"

"Well, people who destroy things generally don't fare well with society."

"That's why we fightin' them yellow Reds!"

Slappy burst out laughing.  Becky complimented his personality so well.

\---------

That night, Slappy tried to fall asleep, but tossed and turned.  _What the hell?  Why am I still having nightmares?  I'm going home, I should be celebrating!_

"Ah....ah...." Slappy sweat and cried, tossing and turning in the throes of another nightmare, being gunned down by an enemy soldier.

"Slaps!  SLAPS!"

Slappy jolted awake panting and buried his sweaty head in his sweaty palms.

"I'm so damn sick of this happening...."

He raised his head to see Wally sitting on his usual stool looking at him, concerned.

"Slaps, that's...I've lost count on how many, but that's the umpteenth time I've teleported here and you're having a bad dream.  What's going on with you, man?"

"I...I don't know."

"You look like the guys Lorraine works with down at the Madison VFA."

"What?  Crippled?"

"Well...mentally, it sounds like you are.  Lorraine says those guys always wake up in cold sweats too."

Slappy looked down and exhaled.

"Slaps, maybe you should talk to someone..."

'Who?  I'm talkin' to you right now!"

"No, I mean...well, a therapist..."

"No," Slappy barked immediately, making Wally raise his voice slightly.

"Why not?"

"Because therapists are for loonies.  I'm not crazy."

"They can HELP you, Slaps!  The guys at the VFA see one once a week!"

"Yeah, well, I'm not a guy at the VFA.  I'm sure these nightmares will go away once I leave here."

Wally sighed.  "Whatever you say, man.  Say, what do you mean once you leave here'?"

"Oh right.  Read those," Slappy nodded at his discharge and Medal of Honor letters on the nightstand.  Wally picked them up and read through the discharge letter first.  His eyes widened. 

"You're comin' home..." he looked at Slappy and several flashes of lightning struck the room as Wally teleported all over the room dancing. "YOU'RE COMIN' HOME, YOU'RE COMIN' HOME, YOU'RE COMIN' HOMEE!!!!"

Slappy covered his face, shielding his eyes from the light.  "Ah...Wally!  WALLY!!  STOP!!!!  JESUS CHRIST!!!!!"

Wally and the lightning stopped and the red-haired dummy looked at his dark-haired brother.

"Read the other letter!"

Wally skimmed through the Medal of Honor letter and raised his eyebrows.

"Wow, Slaps...Medal of Honor.  That's the highest in the land, man.  Congrats!"

Slappy shook his head. "I don't deserve it.  I don't deserve to earn a medal or go on a European vacation or to Hollywood or to Washington.  Those kids deserve that.  What are they gonna get?"

Wally climbed back on his stool and scoffed. "Since when are you Mr. Humble?  They're probably gonna get a great education, maybe learn English, maybe go to America and get a groovy gig and go to college.  You're gonna get an award for saving them!  You saved them, man!  You're the reason they can have all that, man!"

"My powers did it, Wally.  Not me."

Wally groaned and threw his head back, rolling his eyes. "Ohhh my God...see, old you would have gloated and said 'fuck yeah, I saved them kids!  Now look, everyone loves me!  The president loves me, Dad loves me, the foxy ladies fuckin' love me!'"

"I wouldn't use the word foxy.  Dumbass word.  You would."

"Okay, fair enough.  But come  _on,_ man!  Give yourself  _some_ credit!"

Slappy sighed and looked away, then back at his brother. "Look, don't tell anyone I'm coming home, all right?  Not even Mary-Ellen."

"...Why not?"

"Cause I wanna surprise em, you know?  Plus I'm not gonna come home right away after Europe and Hollywood and Washington.  I have...things to do."

Wally furrowed his brow. "Things to do?  Do mine ears deceive me?  Is the old Slappy back?"

"Not those kind of things!  I made a promise to Scooter--you know, the guy that died--that I'd go talk to his mama.  So I gotta go to South Carolina first."

Wally whistled low and shook his head. "The South is a crazy place, man..." he said gravely.

"Still?"

"You thought that shit ended with the March?  Hell no.  Half the news is Vietnam and the other half is white cops spraying black people with hoses and white people refusing service to black people.  Racism is alive and well down there, Slaps.  Dr. King wasn't strong enough to stop it.  You better watch your back down there."

"Wally, I've fought in a war.  I can handle anything."

Wally laughed. "THERE'S the old Slappy!  Hey I gotta go to work, it's 7 a.m. back home.  I'll check you later when you get home, okay, man?  And don't worry; your secret's safe with me," the red-haired dummy winked and disappeared after another flash of lightning.

Slappy was left to his own thoughts.  Even seven hours later, he still couldn't process it.

_I'm going home..._


	17. We'll Always Have Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slappy tours Europe and has fun in Paris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Language stuff. Note: I speak French so these are not exact translations.
> 
> Je veux acheter ça, si'l vous plait = I want to buy this, please
> 
> Puis-je vous aider = Can I help you?
> 
> mon ami = my friend
> 
> arrondissements = boroughs
> 
> comment je vais à l'ambassade américaine? = How do I get to the American embassy
> 
> Un café avec sucre = a coffee with sugar
> 
> Une table pour deux, si'l vous plait = a table for two, please
> 
> bouteille = bottle
> 
> Also the red dress was what I was thinking for Jean's dress. It's from 1979 but still 70s fashion, lol. https://2lth8w1uv77536l8d72pqh10-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/1979-Wards-wrap-dresses-dance-disco-halter-13-1-249x500.jpg

Fall came and Slappy was finally healed.  He was up and walking perfectly fine without any support (albeit with a tiny limp) by September.  The very next day after his recovery, he was ordered to pack his bags to set off for Europe.  He said tearful goodbyes to the nurses and to Friday. It was the first time he sort of cried saying goodbye to people.  

Saying goodbye to Friday was the hardest.  Christine brought the Vietnamese dummy into Slappy's room as he was packing.  Slappy's Asian counterpart was already in tears, causing the American dummy to put his bags down and walk towards him, his arms extended.

"Aww, come on, man..."

Slappy wasn't much of a hugger, but he saw that his friend desperately needed one, so he hugged him tightly.  Friday sniffed and wiped a green tear from his eye.

"Why you have leave?" he asked in a small, tearful voice, almost like a child's.  Slappy shrugged.

"Army told me to, man.  You gotta do what they say," he watched Friday cry some more and said "Aww, come on, here..." and hugged him again. "Hey listen.  You come find me if you're ever in the States, okay?" Slappy took a piece of paper and wrote down Stine's address. "That's my papa's address.  You come find me if you're ever in Madison, Delaware, okay?"

"Madison, Delaware..."

"That's right, kid."

"Never heard of it," Friday shook his head.

"It's okay, no one has."

"Hey, you better score with your girl, Slaps!"

"Hey, you need to GET a girl before you can talk about me!" Slappy laughed and hugged him. "But I will.  Take care of yourself, buddy."

Friday nodded. "Thank you."

He was about to leave but hugged Slappy tightly one last time before leaving, sobbing.  Slappy smiled.

"You're gonna do big things, kid.  I know it."

Friday turned and left.  Slappy watched him leave and picked up his bags.  

"You ready to get outta this dump?" Christine smiled.

Slappy took a deep breath and exhaled. "Yeah!  Hey...take care of him for me, will ya?" he nodded towards the open door in the direction that Friday had walked down.  Christine looked down the hallway in the direction he was nodding and smiled.

"You can count on me.  Now let's get you to Europe!"

\------

Europe was even more of a culture shock than Vietnam.  Slappy's first tour of duty was in Germany. Well...West Germany, that is.  Slappy found out the harsh state of German politics when he arrived in Bonn, the West German capital, and picked up his assignment at the U.S. Embassy.  The desk sergeant handed him his folder and immediately looked back down at his paperwork and continued writing as he gave Slappy instructions.

"You're free to do as much sightseeing throughout the day unless we call you back to report back to Vietnam.  You are to come here every morning for briefing and updates and then the rest of the day is yours. You are not to set foot in East Germany unless ordered to do so by a superior officer."

"...Why...?  What's there?" Slappy asked warily.

The sergeant looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Are you a Communist?"

Slappy was appalled at the accusation. "No!  What the hell?!"

"Excuse me?" The sergeant raised his voice at Slappy's defiance.

"Uh, I mean...no sir.  Sorry, sir," Slappy quietly mumbled, looking down, embarrassed.

The sergeant looked back down at his paperwork and continued working. "You're free to go wherever you want in Germany as long as you remain on the West side and report here every morning at 10 a.m.  Any questions?"

Slappy hesitated, wanting to know more about East Germany.  "Sir..." he struggled to find the right words to ask. "Why exactly...can't I go to East Germany?"

The sergeant looked up at him, smirking. "You don't know your history, do you, kid?"

 _Because I was in a book for most of it,_ Slappy wanted to retort, but instead he could only muster, "Uh...guess not."

The sergeant folded his hands. "Let me make it easy for you.  After World War II, we took West Germany and Stalin and the Reds took East Germany."

"Hm.  Must've been in the book for that..." Slappy said quietly.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, uh...nothing."

The sergeant eyed him curiously, but said, "Okay.  You're free to go. See you tomorrow."

"Thank you, sir," Slappy saluted awkwardly and left the building.  Stepping out into the German sun, he opened the manila folder and saw the hotel where he'd be staying, as well as a dossier with his picture and all his personal information.  He sighed looking through the paperwork and headed to his hotel.

There wasn't much nightlife in the idyllic countryside of West Germany, but Slappy didn't mind; there was plenty to see during the day.  After his morning briefings, he toured Bonn. Slappy fell in love; it was a town dating back to the 1700s with plenty of architecture: the Schloss Drachenburg and Beethoven's birthplace to name a few.  There were tons of castles and museums, which Slappy had never been a fan of, but still found it interesting nonetheless. Of course, he loved walking among the gravestones at the Alter Friedhof.

Eventually he'd seen all the town had to offer and wanted to get out to exploring the rest of the country.  That is, what he was allowed to see. Luckily, Slappy learned, East Germany only composed of Berlin and a few other cities.  The majority of the country was Allied-controlled. One day after his morning briefings, Slappy decided to take a train down to Bavaria.  He stopped in a restaurant in Allgäu for some bratwurst and did some souvenir shopping. One of the best things about Germany was that language was no longer a barrier; Slappy spoke enough German to get by thanks to his father.  

He couldn't have picked a better time to be in Germany's biggest state; it was Oktoberfest.  Slappy spent the day in Munich getting plastered before meeting a fellow American soldier at the festival.  The two men made the four and a half-hour car ride back to Bonn and somehow, Slappy still made it to his briefings the next morning.  Massively hungover, of course.

Slappy spent two weeks in Germany, going to Cologne, Dusseldorf and Frankfurt.  One morning, he went to the embassy for his briefings and learned he had been reassigned to Paris.  Slappy let out a low whistle. Paris...that was a land of opportunity. His evil side thought about the attention he'd get if he attempted to release the monsters there to destroy it, while his (questionable) good side thought about all the beautiful women and, finally, something to do at night instead of coming back to his hotel room and watching TV.

And so the next day, he was on a train to Paris.  Stine and everyone in Madison was middle to upper-class, but on the ornate train, Slappy felt like a rich man.  He even drank tea in the dining car and he usually hated tea. He got some gawks and he wasn't sure if it was because of his short stature, his wooden, dummified self, or simply because of him being the only American in Army dress greens on a train full of people in normal business attire.  

He was excited to see the women of Paris, but he thought of Mary-Ellen a lot as he looked out the window at the Southwest German countryside.  She would have loved experiencing this with him. He wished he could take her to dinner at a fancy Parisian restaurant and make love to her in a beautiful ornate Paris hotel room.  It'd be a nice break from the baby for her, but Slappy wanted to keep his coming home a surprise for as long as he could, at least until he received his medal in January. He was fully aware that Paris was the perfect place to do some ring shopping.  He was also fully aware that everything in Paris was insanely expensive. He was getting paid a weekly stipend, but it wasn't much; $100 a week and the exchange rates made it less. Slappy knew he had to give Mary-Ellen the ring she deserved. He also knew that he was highly prone to temptation.  He decided that he'd do some browsing, but would wait to actually buy a ring until he made it through however many heady, booze-fueled Paris nights that the Army allowed him.

Slappy was reading a German newspaper and was lost in the confusing nature of East and West German politics when the conductor announced, "Paris!  Station prochaine, Paris!"

Upon hearing the French, Slappy closed his eyes and groaned; the language barrier was back in effect.  He made a mental note to pick up one of those books for tourists on how to speak French when he got off the train.

Slappy peered out the window and saw the Seine, the Eiffel Tower and the Cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris and his eyes widened with wonder, like a little kid seeing New York City for the first time.

"Wow..."

The train pulled into the station and Slappy disembarked with everyone else, grabbing his luggage.  Looking around the Gare du Nord, he spotted a kiosk where a man was selling tourist language guides.  He took a deep breath.

"Here goes nothin'..."

He walked over and picked out one of the bigger guides and read the title to himself.

"'France, Finest Tourist Guide.  Perfect for sightseeing, shopping, restaurants, beaches and the French Culture'...it'll do."

He approached the counter.  Opening his mouth about to say, "I'd like to buy this, please," he remembered what country he was in and opened the book.  He found je for I and began,

"Je..."

The salesperson giggled upon hearing Slappy pronounce je like "gee."

Slappy found the rest of what he was trying to say and said "Je veux acheter ça, si'l vous plait," and smiled confidently.  His smile quickly faded when he noticed the salesman laughing uproariously; Slappy had said "Gee view a sheeter caw, sill vous play."  The only words he had pronounced correctly were vous and plait.

"Hey, why are you laughing??" Slappy became furious.  The salesman leaned in and whispered.

"I speak English, mon ami."

"Jesus Christ, why didn't you tell me??  Here, I wanna buy this," he put the book on the counter.  The salesman rang him up and he paid. While he was ringing him up, he said,

"It is rare to see un pantin in Paris."

"It's rare to see what?" Slappy looked confused as the salesman smirked.

"Might I suggest buying this as well?" he placed a French dictionary on the counter in front of Slappy, who smiled.

"I'll take it!  Thanks!"

The salesman put his books in a bag for him and he walked away.  A few steps away from the kiosk, Slappy got curious and pulled out the dictionary and went to the p section.  He found the definition of pantin to be "puppet, dummy." He turned with narrowed, angry eyes and looked back at the kiosk, where the salesman was helping another customer.

"Jerk..." he said in an offended tone of voice.  

Slappy ascended the stairs and exited the train station and his vision was immediately nothing but suit jackets.  Paris was a lot bigger and much more crowded than Bonn and once again, Slappy was reminded of how short he was. He managed to find his way to a kiosk full of free maps of the city and picked one up.  Opening it up, he discovered it was even more complicated than he imagined. The city was divided into things called "arrondissements." Grids of intersecting lines made the map almost impossible to read, but Slappy found a building in the center of the city labeled "L'ambassade des États-Unis," which he guessed was his destination.  He picked up a map of the Paris metro system, studied it for a few minutes, then went back down the stairs in the Gare du Nord. Sitting down on a bench, he studied the map further. He was trying to get to the embassy without having to use his terrible French, but he sighed when he realized he had no clue where he was going. He pulled out his guide and his dictionary and took a 10-minute crash course in French.  After he felt confident enough to at least ask for basic directions, Slappy approached a subway employee, cleared his throat and attempted French.

"E...excusez-moi?"

The employee looked around, looking for the source of the voice.  He finally looked down at Slappy, staring at him with a perplexed expression.  Old Slappy would've narrowed his eyes and cackled evilly, but new Slappy became extremely nervous and began to sweat tiny green droplets, adding to his embarrassment.

The employee finally managed to croak, "Puis...puis-je vous aider?"

"Uh...bonjour," was all Slappy could manage.

"Bonjour..."

"Uh..." Slappy looked at his guide again. "um...comment...comment je vais à l'ambassade américaine?" he smiled confidently.  The employee felt like he had to smile; the little man was trying, which was more than he could say for most American soldiers who were stationed in France.  He happily gave Slappy visual directions using the map, explaining carefully so that Slappy could understand him.

"Merci," Slappy smiled.  He picked up a copy of _Le Monde_ that someone had tossed on the ground and boarded the Metro train headed for Mairie de Montrouge.  He could feel the stares and buried his head in the newspaper. He didn't understand a word in any of the articles, but he was desperate to avoid the stares and murmurs, although he felt like he should be used to them by now.

Slappy got off at Strasbourg-Saint-Denis and boarded the train to Balard, getting off at Concorde.  He ascended the stairs and the embassy was in front of him. He smiled and breathed a sigh of relief.  Finally.

Upon entering, he presented his credentials to the secretary, who asked him to wait and a sergeant would be with him shortly.  Slappy sat down in one of the chairs adjacent to the secretary. He still had his copy of _Le Monde,_ so after looking at the drab white and teal walls got boring, he pretended to read it.  He could feel the secretary's eyes on him, but they weren't curious eyes; out of the corner of his eye, he saw she was biting the top of her pen suggestively, checking him out.  She was an attractive woman with long, sexy, wavy Farrah Fawcett-esque red hair, big purple glasses, hoop earrings and firm breasts through a tight wool sweater. He smiled into the newspaper; he knew she'd break the ice first.  And she did.

"How are you liking Paris?" she asked sweetly.

Slappy pretended to be interrupted reading a story. "Oh, uh..." he put the paper down. "I've only been here for about an hour," he chuckled and looked at her.

"Oh.  Well, if you need someone to show you around, I could take you after I get off work..." despite her suggestive stare, her voice was level and sweet.  Slappy smiled charmingly.

"I'd appreciate that."

Their flirting was put on hold by a staff sergeant walking out into the lobby.  "Private Stine," he smiled, extending his hand. "welcome to Paris."

Slappy stood up and shook it. "Thank you, sir."

The sergeant led him back to the main offices, filled with other officers working. "First of all, congratulations on your Medal of Honor.  I'm sure you're honored."

"Uh...yeah," Slappy still felt uneasy about the Medal of Honor situation.  He still felt that he didn't deserve it at all.

The sergeant sat down at his desk and handed Slappy his folder.  "Now you were in Germany before this, so you know the drill, but in there is your hotel assignment, dossier and reserve assignment.  All you need to do unless you're called back to go back to Vietnam is to report here every morning at 0900. Other than that, enjoy Paris!  There's lots to do here."

Slappy smiled.  "Thank you, sir, I will."

He passed the secretary on his way out and stopped just before he got to the doors.  He turned around and approached her. She didn't notice he was standing at eye level, so he got her attention with a smooth "I didn't get your name," and a charming little smile.

She looked up and smiled, taking off her glasses.  Not that it mattered because he was made of wood, but Slappy felt a particular area of his wooden body harden.   _Damn...I need to be careful._

The secretary smiled. "It's Jean."

"Jean.  Slappy," he extended his hand.

"Oh I know, you're the latest Medal of Honor recipient."

"...Right.  Well, listen, I, uh...might need someone to show me around.  When do you get a lunch break?"

Jean smiled. "In about 20 minutes.  How about Café de Flore? It's on the Boulevard Saint-German."

"Meet me there?"

"Order for me.  Un café avec sucre and une salade niçoise."

Hearing an attractive woman speak French sent a chill down Slappy's spine, but he nodded and winked.  "You got it."

He eventually found his way to the Boulevard Saint-German and to the café and ordered coffee with sugar for Jean and himself and, after confusing suggestions from the waiter and looking through the menu, eventually just ordered a club sandwich, along with Jean's salad.  As he sipped his coffee and people-watched, Slappy thought about the situation he was in. He could NOT cheat again. It was three years later and his child was here. He knew better now. And he wasn't going to, no matter how tipsy he got, no matter how much partying he did.  But none of that meant he couldn't let a female show him a good time in a foreign country.

Slappy was deep in thought when he heard a sweet female voice clear her throat.  "Am I interrupting your deep thinking process?"

He looked up and saw Jean. "Oh!  No, I was, uh...well, sit down." He pulled out the chair adjacent to her.

"Thanks," she said, sitting down. "Sorry...Sarge needed me to finish some last-minute reports."

"No, don't worry about it, I already ordered.  Speaking of which, where is that food?" He snapped his fingers.  "Hey! Garchon!" He smiled at Jean, hoping that impressed her. She just smiled at him.

"You don't know any French, do you?"

"Not a word.  But I'm learning!" Slappy smiled, holding up his guide and his dictionary.  Jean giggled and shook her head as if pitying him and sipped her coffee.

"You're lucky you have me, then."

Slappy blushed, embarrassed. "Heh...guess so."

Jean suddenly put down her coffee, looking at him curiously. "I feel like I know you from somewhere..."

Slappy looked at her, trying to hide the fact that he knew what was coming.  "Parisian lovers in a past life?" he tried to smile.

"No, no, it's something else.  Didn't you try and destroy a town in Delaware a few years ago?"

Slappy tasted something sour in his mouth.  If he was human, the color would be drained from his face.  Jean smiled knowingly and giggled at his pale wooden face and wide brown eyes.

"And now you're a Medal of Honor recipient.  How do you go from destroying a town to an Army hero?"

Slappy shrugged nonchalantly.  "Like Papa says: times change, people change."

Jean rested her knuckle against her jaw.  "You fascinate me..."

He raised an eyebrow.  "In a good way?"

"I don't know yet...but it isn't bad."

They smiled at each other gently for a long time.  When their food came, Slappy took a big bite out of his sandwich without taking his eyes off her.  Jean shook her head.

"A club sandwich.  You know, that's exactly  _not_ what you're supposed to order when you're a tourist."

Slappy raised his eyebrows. "You want me to eat snails?"

"Hey, escargot isn't that bad!"

They both laughed.  Slappy felt relieved as lunch continued.  They weren't flirting, just talking as friends should.  

After lunch, Slappy walked Jean back to the embassy.

"So what's your story?  What are you doing here?"

Jean hesitated as if she knew Slappy wouldn't like what she was about to say. "I enlisted in '69.  I knew maybe I wasn't physically up to fight by Army standards, but...I wanted to serve.  You know, feminism and women serving and all that.  My best friend was a huge feminist.  She joined up and convinced me to join up too."

Slappy looked up at her.  "Was?"

Jean looked down.  "She, um...she was a nurse.  She was in a bunker treating soldiers in Ap Ben Da when a grenade hit.  She died with the rest of them."

Slappy looked down.  "I'm sorry."

Jean nodded sadly.  "But I just did clerical work while she served.  I was in Spain for a bit, then Germany, then here.  I've been here the longest, though."

Slappy nodded as they walked.  "So that means you have someone who might be pissed at the two of us being seen together."

Jean shook her head and rolled her eyes. "He doesn't care, he knows I see soldiers every day."

"Who is he?  A Frenchman who eats snails?"

Jean rolled her eyes again. "His name is Pierre."

"So he's a Frenchman who eats snails."

Jean shook her head again. "What about you?  Do you have a life outside of destroying towns?"

"I have a daughter and a wife, thank you very much!"

Jean raised her eyebrows at him.  "A wife?"

Slappy caught himself, realizing what he'd said.  "...Girlfriend."

She nodded knowingly. "But you have commitment issues."

"Please, I do not," Slappy scoffed.

"Thennnnn propose?"

"You know, I've been on the other side of the world for three years trying to avoid being killed.  Proposing to a doll hasn't exactly been on the front of my mind."

She nodded.  "Fair enough."

They had been walking for a while and were so deep in conversation about significant others, their war service, home and so many other things that before they knew it, they were back in front of the embassy.

"Well..." Jean giggled sheepishly.  "guess I have to go back to work..."

She started to turn to go into the building when Slappy blurted out half involuntarily, "What are you doing later?"

She turned around.  "What are  _you_ doing later?"

Slappy shrugged.  "What else is there to do here?"

Jean smirked and nodded knowingly.  "That's code for 'I want to take a very attractive woman to the Moulin Rouge because I really want to see it, but don't know if she'll be offended.'"

Slappy just stood there, stunned.  He eventually nodded.  "Yeah.  Sure."

She smiled.  "Meet me for dinner at eight at La Closerie des Lilas.  Then I'll show you a real Parisian party."  

She turned and went inside.  Slappy nodded to himself and shook his head smiling as he looked at the street.  "How do you do it, Slaps..."

\---

As he got ready in his hotel room that overlooked the city--and gave him a clear view of the Eiffel Tower--Slappy splashed water and aftershave on his face and sighed into his hands.  It's a totally innocent night out with a new friend, he thought.  He should  _not_ be as concerned as he was.  But he was concerned about Jean's intentions with him.  She said she had a boyfriend and she seemed like she just wanted to show him around the city.  Was she just naturally flirtatious, like him?  He put both hands on the ornate bathroom countertop.  He'd never actively wished Mary-Ellen were someplace with him, but he wished like hell she was here now.  She'd always wanted to see Paris.  He could see it now:  they'd sightsee during the day, maybe kiss atop the Eiffel Tower.  Then at night, they'd party at nightclub after nightclub, drinking and dancing until dawn and then coming back to his hotel room to make love and waking up the next morning intertwined as the Paris sun rose.

Slappy spritzed himself with cologne and combed his hair.  He sighed and raised his eyebrows, wondering if there was somewhere in Paris that specialized in dummy haircuts.  Not that he had to worry about his hair growing out too much like hippies, though he did notice his shaved sides were coming back and his neckline was getting a little longer.

Speaking of shaved sides, Slappy looked down at his dress greens, regretting not buying a change of clothes, not like he was allowed to anyway.  He was required while he was on reserve duty to wear his greens even while technically off duty.  He'd never been to a laundromat so much in his life.  Heck, he'd never been to a laundromat at all, not even to the local one in Madison that Lorraine always went to.

He came out to the living area and poured himself a shot of whiskey and downed it, looking out at the Eiffel Tower, now illuminated by its twinkling lights and the lights of the city.  He was still being plagued by the nightmares about the war, but if there was one place that could make him forget and have a good time, it was Paris.  He looked at the TV that was playing  _Casablanca_ , which Slappy of course had seen a thousand and one times and knew every line by heart.  

"We'll always have Paris..." he said along with Humphrey Bogart.  He said it as a silent prayer to himself, hoping the city would make him forget the hell he had been through the past three years and the memories of them that were tormenting him now.

Slappy turned off the TV and left.  Paris at night was much more different than Paris during the day.  Slappy was reminded of when he had R&R in Tokyo.   Paris at night was bustling, loud, exhilarating and fun.  Slappy wanted to stop in every club he saw walking to the restaurant, but he felt that Jean wasn't the type of girl who liked to be kept waiting, so he headed over.

The dummy took one foot in the historic restaurant and knew it was going to be too expensive for him.  At least the red leather chairs were high enough for him that he'd be able to see over the table.

Slappy approached the maître-d, tapping his pocket to make sure his French guide was handy.  The maître-d of course didn't notice him until Slappy, more confident than he was that afternoon, got his attention.  The maître-d looked up and looked slightly taken aback at the little wooden soldier before him, but kept his composure and asked how he could help.  Slappy looked at his guide.

"Une table pour deux, si'l vous plait," Slappy looked up and smiled.  The maître-d smiled down at him and grabbed two menus and asked him to follow him.  He led him to a table indoors and, much to Slappy's embarrassment, the waiter with him tried to pick him up to put him on the chair.  Slappy didn't know how to say "I got it" in French, so he just said "non" over and over again until they let him get up himself.  

The waiter finally left him alone and asked for his drink order.

"Uh...water.  Uh...hold on..." Slappy flipped through his guide.  "L'eau.  Eau?  Oh?  L'eau."

The waiter nodded and winked and left.  Slappy drummed his fingers on the table, wondering where Jean was.  A few minutes later, she arrived, wearing a beautiful red double-strapped dress.  Slappy felt that familiar feeling again as his eyes widened, fixated in awe on her body as he stood up and pulled out the chair for her.

"Thank you!  Sorry I'm late," as she sat down.

"Fashionably, as always," Slappy rested his chin in his hand watching her.

"Well not all of us can be soldiers on reserve duty, hun.  Speaking of which, you didn't order wine..." she mock pouted as the waiter returned with his water.

"Oh, uh...I wasn't sure what you wanted..." 

Jean looked at him in shock.  "You're a  _soldier_ on  _reserve duty_  on a  _night out_ in  _Paris_ and you haven't started  _drinking?_ _"_ as Slappy chuckled.  Jean looked at the waiter.  "Une bouteille de Cheverny, si'l vous plait."

Slappy smirked.  "I don't drink wine, by the way," he looked at the waiter.  "Scotch, si'l vous plait."

The waiter bowed and left.  Jean raised her eyebrows at him.

"You don't drink wine?"

"Not sober," as the waiter returned with the bottle of wine and his scotch and asked for their orders.

"Filet de haddock, si'l vous plait."

The waiter nodded and looked at Slappy for his order.  "Uh..." _I can't read anything on this damn thing._ He found an item called "Le Close Burger" and pointed to it.  The waiter nodded and left.  Slappy smiled and looked at Jean, who looked at him with a comical smirk and eyebrow raise.  She shook her head.

"Come on, it's not like I'm the first soldier you've taken out that's done this."

She poured herself a glass of wine.  "No, but then again, you ARE trying in some respects.  And I don't do this with _all_ the boys!  I'm not that easy."

"You just pity me because I'm made of wood."

"No..."

"It's because I won the Medal of Honor?  Is that why you're doing this?"

"No!  Slappy, is it  _that_ hard to believe that someone genuinely likes you as a friend?"

Slappy felt like he had just been hit with a two-by-four.  He stared at her as she had just repeated Hannah's words.  Jean giggled, concerned.

"What's wrong?  You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Huh?  Oh no, that's not my ghost-seeing face...it's just...what you said is what my sister said to me before I left..."

Jean nodded and raised her eyebrows.  "Maybe she's right then.  Sisters know everything."

Slappy nodded looking at his plate.  "Guess so..." he took a sip of scotch and changed the subject, chuckling slightly.  "You know, Pap--my father would hate my guts if he knew I was here."

"Why's that?"

"He's always wanted to come here.  This is where Hemingway chillaxed back in the day."

"Really?  I didn't know that."

He raised his eyebrows at her.  "Miss Paris Expert didn't know that one of America's greatest authors ate here?"

"I never said I was an expert!  What does your father do?"

"Oh...he's an author.  That's why he wants to come here so bad."

She wagged her finger at him.  "That's right...I remember a news report saying something about you being written by him..."

"Yyyeah...was wonderin' when you were gonna bring that up..." he ran a hand over his face.

"Oh...I didn't mean to...sorry if it's a sore spot..."

"No, it's fine," he looked at her.  "You look beautiful by the way."

Jean blushed and indicated her dress.  "Oh, this old thing?  It's nothing."

Slappy smiled gently. "You sure Pierre won't mind us out like this?"

"No, you know French men.  They make you think you're in an open relationship while still treating you as their girlfriend."

He nodded. "I see..."

They ate, paid the bill and set off to the Moulin Rouge.  The twinkling lights of the Boulevard de Clichy greeted them.  Slappy was in awe, but the minute they set foot inside the historic cabaret club, his life became nothing but a blur of color and alcohol.  The booze, cabaret women and color in the dingy, smoke-infested club made him dizzy, yet so full of energy.

Normally when out drinking with a woman, there'd be mutual flirtation and sex would definitely be in the picture, like with Sheila from Tokyo.  But Slappy was once again proven wrong by Jean.  She was actually quite tomboyish.  She could hold her liquor like a man.  Slappy loved it; it was like going out with Zach like old times.  Or Champ.  Slappy toasted to his fallen buddies and Jean drank right along with him even though she had no clue who they were.  She even comforted him when he drunkenly cried over Champ and wasn't bothered by his neon green tears.  They found some other soldiers on reserve and took shots with them. 

At some point during the night, his drunk wandering eyes became fixated on the legs of the can-can dancers and wished like hell Mary-Ellen was pressed to his body...but Jean would do as around 3:00 in the morning, she passed out in his arms.  Slappy had to smile; she reminded him a lot of Mary-Ellen in some ways.

Slappy took one more shot and slung the human female over his shoulder.  Before the war, he'd never been physically able to carry a human, but thanks to running injured physically fit men to M*A*S*H helicopters every day in Vietnam for a year and a half, carrying Jean's dainty body was a breeze.  He managed to get her into a cab and went down to the Seine, splashing water on her face waking her up.  She opened her eyes and smiled at him.  He almost got choked up looking at her; seeing a woman so carefree and playful reminded him of Mary-Ellen when they were dating.  It felt like he was looking at her now.

"Hey...I gotta get you home."

"Let's walk for a bit...I'll sober up."

They walked hand-in-hand along the banks of the Seine.  "Slappy?"

"Hm?"

"Remember when Gene Kelly and Leslie Caron danced here in  _An American in Paris_?"

Slappy smiled. "Of course!  That's my sister Hannah's favorite movie."

She bent down and rested her head on his shoulder as they walked slowly and he sang softly.  Slappy had never fancied himself much of a singer, but thanks to Hannah, he knew the  _An American in Paris_ soundtrack by heart.  And he also had alcohol in his system.

 _"It's veryyy clearrrr, our love is heeeere to stayyyy._  
_Not for a yearr, but ever and a dayyyy._  
_The radiooo and the telephoneee and the moviees that we knooow_  
_May just be passing fancies_  
_And in time may gooo_  
_But, oh my dearrrr_  
_Our love is heeeere to stayyyy_  
_Together we'rrrre_  
_Going a long, long wayyyy_  
_In time the Rockies may crumble_  
_Gibralter may tumble_  
_There're only maaade of clayyyyy_  
_But our love is heeere to stayyyy..."_

Jean smiled.  "That was beautiful...can you do the dance?"

Slappy laughed.  "Oh I can't dance to save my life!  Ask Mary-Ellen!"

"Mary-Ellen...is that your girl?"

"Sure is.  Besides, no one can dance like Gene Kelly!"

Jean nodded slightly and looked down.  It was as if she'd finally sobered up.  "Slappy, maybe you should take me home."

He wondered if it was something he'd said as she told him where she lived and he hailed a cab and took her home.  He walked her up to her apartment door.  She turned to face him.

"Thank you..."

"I should be thanking you.  Paris is far out!  Even though I can't understand anything anyone's sayin'!"

She smiled and got thoughtful.  "Hey...you're a good guy.  Most soldiers would be trying to get in my pants even after I told them I have a boyfriend."

"I'm not most soldiers," he looked down at how close to the ground he was thanks to height.  "Clearly!"

Jean noticed and laughed.  "Your girl and your baby are lucky to have you as their man and their daddy."

Slappy's heart fluttered, feeling proud.  She leaned in and kissed his cheek.  "Good night, Slappy.  We'll hang tomorrow, okay?  See you in the morning.  If you're not too hungover, that is."

She entered her apartment and closed the door quietly.  Slappy smiled to himself.  He kept smiling in the cab on the way back to his hotel.  For the past three years, he'd been learning that doing the right thing was the right thing to do.  And more importantly, it felt good.  Even when the right thing was fessing up to something, it felt good.  Being honest felt good.  Being a good person felt good.  The reward, Slappy was finding, was just an added bonus.  

Slappy also realized that being faithful to a woman felt good.  Not even just to a woman.  Being faithful to a  _family_ felt good.  He had a responsibility as a boyfriend (soon to be husband, he was thinking) and more importantly, as a father.  

He was nightmare-free that night.  He got home just as the sky was starting to turn blue with early morning light.  Filled with a warm, fuzzy feeling, he slept in only his undershirt and boxers with one sheet one with a smile on his face and Rick's famous last words to Ilsa in his head.

"We'll always have Paris..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes, I know, I went waaay overboard with this chapter, lol. I just wanted Slappy to enjoy Europe and Paris. Hope everyone is still enjoying!! Feel free to like and/or comment. :)


	18. Swinging London and Hooray for Hollywood!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slappy completes his European reserve tour and goes back to America.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slang:
> 
> Shick = hot. "Dude, that girl is shick."
> 
> mick = derogatory term for an Irish person

Slappy was in France for about four weeks, through the end of October.  He was glad he didn't have a liver; he'd definitely have cirrhosis by now if he did thanks to his alcohol consumption.

No matter how close he and Jean got, they were able to respect boundaries, both of them not wanting to cheat on their significant others.  Jean even introduced Slappy to Pierre, a cocky, curly-haired hippy Frenchman who resented him at first, but after a few drinks, the two men became cordial.  They'd gotten close, oh so close to it happening, but every time Slappy laid his hands on her body and smelled the alcohol on her lips inches away from his, Mary-Ellen and his daughter jumped back into his mind, he'd say he couldn't do it and apologize and went to sleep on the couch or go back to his hotel.  She would always nod and lie and say that Pierre was in her mind too and he was, though she was growing serious feelings for the puppet. But she sighed, knowing he had responsibilities at home.

He and Jean did more than just party.  After his morning briefings, they explored France.  She took him to Versailles and was subject to a series of whistles from Slappy, who was in awe at the richness and ornate decor of the palace.  

They went to Normandy, where again, Slappy was reminded how much he had missed while being in the book as Jean relayed to him how American and British troops stormed the beach in World War II.

The two got along magnificently.  The only disagreement they had was when Jean insisted on going to wine country, but Slappy declined, stating over and over again that he hated wine.  Jean didn't talk to him for the rest of the day, but by 6:00 that night, she invited him out for their usual dinner and clubbing. They found an American karaoke bar and Slappy, once he got alcohol in him, sang his favorite song to her:  This Magic Moment by Jay and The Americans to make it up to her, taking her hand and kissing it as she blushed.

One Sunday morning, Slappy made a rare request.  He asked Jean if it was possible if they could attend mass at Notre Dame.  He presented it under the guise of exploring the cathedral, but in reality, he was trying to work out what he believed in.  She agreed and they went to mass. Slappy instantly regretted it when he heard everything in Latin; French was hard enough to learn.  But throughout the mass, he didn't feel anything. No connection to God, nothing. Maybe Catholicism wasn't for him. Maybe he should remain a Jew like his father.  Maybe he just needed to hear mass in English.  But after mass, the cathedral was fun to tour.

They went to the Eiffel Tower on their last day together, which just so happened to be Halloween.  Taking the elevator up to the floor with the restaurant, they gazed out over the city together, neither of them saying a word, reflecting on their time together, neither of them wanting to leave.  Slappy broke the silence first and he did it in his usual cryptic way.

"Rick was right..." he mused, looking out over the City of Lights.  Jean looked at him confused.

"Rick?"

"We'll always have Paris."

Jean smiled. "Ohhhh.  I love that movie," she didn't know what else to say.

"I've seen it 1,247 times."

Jean looked at him wide-eyed.  "You keep count?"

"I have some really stupid powers."

She giggled and they went back to silence.  Slappy looked at the city below him and opened his mouth, trying to find words.  "Jean..." he began. She looked at him.

"You know...you know how I usually spend my Halloweens.  This city would be overrun with monsters by now if you had met me before the war."

_ Why the hell did I just say that?   _ Slappy wasn't just mentally kicking himself.  He was mentally beating himself up for saying such a stupid thing.

"Okay..." Jean said awkwardly.

"But uh....I mean...if things were different on both our ends...what I'm trying to say is that I'd kiss you right now if I could."

Jean looked at him and smiled.  "I know. I'd kiss you too. And...I'm sorry if I led you on, or tried to put you in a compromising situation.  I have a man too, I...I shouldn't be doing those things."

"I'm just as guilty."

They looked at each other for a long time.  Slappy was reminded of when he used to watch Looney Tunes and an angel and a devil would appear on a character's shoulders.  The angel was telling him to be faithful while the devil was telling him that just one tiny kiss on the lips wouldn't hurt. Jean began to speak and he kicked himself for missing his chance.

"You know, Halloween's not too big here, but there's a masquerade ball in Versailles that Pierre and I go to every year if...you'd like to come."

Slappy smiled, half-relieved that he was going to third-wheel.  "I'd love to."

"But you have to get a tux."

Slappy looked down at his greens.  "I gotta wear these all the time, though..."

"Not for a non-Army event, you don't!  And Pierre has an extra tux lying around that we can have altered today.  You just gotta worry about the mask," she winked.

They had been at Versailles a week ago, but Slappy's heart stopped when he walked into the ballroom on Halloween night and saw how richly furnished it was.  There were no skeletons, no ghosts, no bats, no pumpkins. You wouldn't know it was Halloween unless you knew the date. The strangest part is, he wasn't offended about any of that.  He actually didn't know if he wasn't offended or if he felt out of place; the most formal dances he'd ever been to were the Sadie Hawkins dances at Madison High, except this time, Champ and Zach weren't here to provide backup vocals to his lead vocal on Dream Lover by Dion DiMucci or This Magic Moment by Jay and The Americans or clap along and do a cappella to Little Bitty Pretty One while Zach sang lead vocals.  Walking in, he almost started breaking down and crying thinking about how Champ used to sing along to his favorite song, Teenager in Love. Or when he, Zach and Champ linked arms and danced around the gym singing Lollipop by The Chordettes when it came on.

Once everyone was inside, it wasn't much different from a dance at the high school.  The women, in elegant dresses, stood one one side, while the men in tuxedos stood on the other.  Jean's and Slappy's eyes locked. It was the first time Jean had seen him out of his greens and she was even more taken aback.  She had no idea how such a short, wooden man could be so handsome, but his newly trimmed hair, his tuxedo and his black mask hiding his brown eyes made him even more devilishly handsome, like a male character from a Jane Austen novel.  Slappy looked at Jean and wished, yet again, that he was average height. He knew nothing about dance, but he was sure Gene Kelly would say something like "a short man and a tall woman dancing the waltz doesn't have the same energy has two average people dancing it."

The waltz started and the men approached the women to dance.  Slappy shook hands with Pierre and, without anyone asking, Pierre gave Slappy permission to dance with his girlfriend.  Slappy waas stunned, but approached Jean and the two began to waltz with the other couples.

"I thought you said you couldn't dance?"

"The waltz is easy.  A monkey could do it.  Now ask me to dance to Do You Love Me or do the Locomotion and it ain't happenin'."

Jean laughed.  The forbidden lovers danced throughout the night.  Jean also danced with Pierre for most of the night while Slappy walked around aimlessly drinking and eating.  It was the first night they kept their drinking to a minimum; they had to keep it classy, being in Versailles and all.  

Pierre took Jean back to her apartment that night.  They dropped Slappy off at his hotel first. The next morning, he learned he had been reassigned to London.  The first thing he said once the sergeant had told him that was "finally, a fucking English-speaking country," causing the sergeant to laugh uproariously.

He walked back out to the lobby and sat on Jean's desk as she was working and said in a British accent.  "I'm off to London, dahhhling."

She giggled and shook her head.  "Smooth, James Bond. Y'know, while you were in Vietnam,  _ Diamonds Are Forever  _ came out and Sean Connery's in it!"

Slappy's eyes widened as he got excited.  "Sean's back?? Far out!!"

Jean giggled and looked at him.  They looked at each other for a long time.

"You know I won't forget you," Slappy said.

She smiled.  "I won't forget you either.  Be careful in London. It's scary there, I hear."

"...Why?"

She shrugged.  "I hear there's a lot of riots and protests.  Might be too wild for a little guy like you."

Slappy smiled cockily.  "I almost destroyed a town, sweetheart.  I can handle whatever those Brits throw at me."

She snorted and laughed.  "Okay, stud."

They stared at each other again for a while.  Slappy wished like hell he could kiss her, even just a tiny peck would sate him.  He could tell she wanted him to; her beautiful red lips were parted and he could see her tongue.  

"You uh..you make sure Pierre treats you right, okay?  Don't let him let guys like me try and steal you away," he managed to croak.

She smiled and shook her head.  "You didn't steal me. You're my friend."

He smiled and shook her hand.  "Oh come here, you!" She got up and hugged him.  "Good luck, okay?"

"Thanks.  Good luck to you too," was all he could think to say.  He got up and walked out and stood in the doorway and looked sadly back at her.  He knew he did the right thing staying faithful to Mary-Ellen, but God damn was it hard to say goodbye to the friends he was meeting along the way, especially Jean.  Slappy had never thought of himself as a hopeless romantic or one who fell in love too easily, but here he was. He turned his back and left her.

That afternoon, he took a flight from Paris to London.  Getting his bags at Heathrow, he was relieved to hear the English language.  Walking outside, he hailed a cab and got in and asked to go to the embassy for his briefings.

"You look a little short, mate," the cab driver said.

"Thanks."  Slappy was well aware that his old self would have ripped the driver's ass in two for pointing that out.

"I didn't mean nothing by it, lad.  Are you excited to be in London?"

Slappy lit up.  "Yeah! Maybe I'll meet Michael Caine or The Beatles!"

He heard the cabbie chuckle and shake his head.  "Mate, The Beatles have broken up."

Slappy's jaw dropped open.  "What???"

"Yep.  Two years ago now."

"Wow...I was in Vietnam.  My sister's gonna kill herself when I tell her...what about Michael Caine?  He's the best.  Besides Steve McQueen, of course.  _ Funeral in Berlin  _ is the best flick ever besides  _ Bullitt! _ "

The driver laughed again.  "You are a little starstruck American lad, ain't ya?  He's probably here, but good luck finding him."

The driver dropped him off at the embassy.  Slappy thanked him and tipped him and went inside.  No beautiful secretary awaited him in this city. Instead, an older lady greeted him with a curt smile.  Luckily, the sergeant was nice and Slappy got his assignment and left. He decided to do some sightseeing as it was only 4:00.  Buying a ticket for a double-decker bus, he boarded it and went on a city tour.

Despite his Parisian adventure, London was Slappy's favorite city so far on his European journey.  Not only did everyone speak English, but the city had so much to offer. Slappy spent the entire bus tour wide-eyed, in awe of everything:  Piccadilly Circus, the Parliament building, the Thames, the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square...there was just so much to see for a small-town puppet from Delaware.

The tour lasted around an hour.  Slappy was hungry and went to Simpson's Tavern in Cornhill.  It was a dimly-lit Victorian-era bar. He wanted beer, but the only beer he could think of that a London bar would have was Guinness, so he asked for a pint of Guinness.  The bartender side-eyed him, but gave him the beer anyway. Slappy stared at him coldly.

"What was that for?"

"You don't know what's happening in Ireland right now, do you, lad?"

"No..."

"The Troubles."

"The Troubles...?"

"Basically Catholics and Protestants fighting each other to the death."

Slappy snorted and took a sip.  "Sounds about right."

The bartender laughed.  "I like you, mate!"

Slappy smiled.  The British, being British, didn't care about his size or his wooden features.  If you were a good man, they treated you like one.

"But...we generally don't serve Guinness anymore.  Our boys are over there trying to control those mick bastards.  We never have served it, really. I just gave it to you cause you're an American lad and you got your uniform on."

"Why?  Don't you serve it, I mean."  

"Gotta read a book while you're here, mate.  The hell with us and the micks goes back centuries, way before this bar was opened."

Slappy nodded.  Being in the book could be good sometimes.  He picked up a menu and asked the bartender what was good to eat and, per his suggestion, ordered sausage and mashed potatoes.  He found a table by the window and picked up a copy of  _ The Mirror _ from the bar and sat down.  He got his food and sat back, basking in how good it felt to read a newspaper in English.  He leaned forward and took his fork and bit his lip; the sausage and mashed potatoes, or "bangers and mash" as the bartender called them, looked delicious smothered in onion gravy.  He was about to stab a piece of sausage when a piece of paper fell onto it from above. It read "STUPID DUMMY!!!!" Slappy furrowed his brows, enraged.

"Hey!  What gi--" He cut himself off when he looked up and saw who it was.  His eyes widened and his mouth formed a wide grin.

"Pete?!?"

Slappy's old fellow soldier smiled as he and Slappy clasped a set of hands together and hugged with the other set.  "How are ya, brother??"

"Fine, fine.  Hey, what happened to ya after I got hit?  How are the rest of the boys?" 

"Yeah....we got a lot to catch up on, brother."

Pete nodded glumly.  "Hey take that to go," he said, indicating Slappy's bangers and mash.  "There's a way better, hipper bar we can go to and catch up."

The boys made their way to The Nag's Head in Knightsbridge, in Harrod's.  There, each man drinking a pint of Scottish ale, Slappy eating his bangers and mash and Pete with some fish and chips, Slappy spent at least an hour recounting everything that had happened to him since Pete saw him last, including Champ dying and meeting Friday.  He didn't leave anything out.  Pete's eyes grew wider and wider as he heard everything.

"Wow.  So...they're all gone?  Morris, Jerry, everybody?"

Slappy shook his head.  "Gone."

"And you survived that blast somehow..."

"Lucky me," Slappy said dryly, taking a sip of beer.

"Did you use your powers to get out?"

Slappy shrugged.  "They wouldn't come to me.  I just...I didn't know what else to do, so I just ran."  

"And ya made it, man.  You're a Medal of Honor recipient now!"

Slappy cocked his head.  "How'd you know that?"

Pete held up a copy of  _ Stars and Stripes _ with Slappy's official Army photograph on the front page with the headline "DELAWARE MAN FIRST PUPPET TO RECEIVE MEDAL OF HONOR." Slappy ran a hand over his face in embarrassment, groaning.

"Great..."

"If what this says is true, you saved some kids in a village under attack!" Pete said, reading the article.

"My powers did.  I got hit by shrapnel and machine guns.  I used whatever I had left to float them to safety."

"It doesn't matter how you did it, man.  You're a hero!"

Slappy shook his head.  "I don't feel like no damn hero..."

"Well...like it or not, Nixon thinks you are."

"Ahhh, what does he know?  He's never met me. By the way, what are you doing here?"

"I'm doin' reserve too.  I got a couple more weeks here, then I go back to Jersey in December.  When you going home?"

"Uhh, not for a while.  After I get my medal in January, I'm gonna go to South Carolina.  I promised Scooter that I'd talk to his mother."

Pete nodded somberly and raised his glass.  "To Scooter."

Slappy raised his and clinked it with Pete's.  "To Scooter." Both men took healthy swigs of the amber ale.

"This Champ guy...you said you knew him before?"

"Yeah.  He was my sister's and my brother-in-law's best friend.  He was also one of my...victims, I guess you could call him, in '68.  Kid was annoying, but he was a hell of a soldier and I only saw him as one for a day and a half."  

Pete raised his glass again.  "To Champ."

Slappy smiled, raising his glass to meet his comrade's one more.  "To Champ." They both drank again, Slappy taking an extra healthy swig this time to honor his fallen friend.

"So what are you gonna do when you get back to Jersey?"

"Probably work in my old man's pizzeria and take it over when he kicks the can.  What are you gonna do when you get back to Delaware?"

Slappy shrugged as he spooned some mashed potatoes into his mouth, thinking.  He'd been partying so much in Europe, but January was fast approaching and he hadn't given life after the Army any thought at all.  

"Well I got a daughter now..."

"Ah yeah, your girl was knocked up when I saw you last!  Is she a doll or a puppet?"

Slappy smiled.  "Doll. Lost that one.  But she looks exactly like me, man.  With my hair and everything." He took out his wallet and pulled out a picture of Annabelle and showed it to Pete, who took it and his heart melted.

"What a cutie...she got your girl's eyes and that's it, huh?"  they both laugh.

"Yeahhh.  They came to see me in the hospital.  I felt like that was kind of cheating.  Should've waited till I got home."

"Hey man, if you got the powers, use em, I say!"

Slappy nodded and smiled as Pete raised his glass again.  "To Annabelle. May she live a long, happy and healthy life."

"To Annabelle!" The glasses clinked and they both drank again.

They ordered another round and toasted to and drank to every man in their fallen unit.  It must've taken them two more rounds and an hour and a half, but once they finished, they were quite buzzed, so naturally, it was time for the conversation to turn to women.

"So you gotta tell me, brother.  'Bout this Jean chick."

Slappy laughed.

"I want the details!  Did you two do it or what?"

"Nothin' happened, man!"

"Don't yank my chain, buddy!"

Slappy laughed again.  "On Champ's grave, man, nothing happened!"

"Well what'd she look like, at least?  Was she shick?"

"Maaan, I fuckin' hate this word, but the chick was foxy as hell."

"Oh HELL yeah, man!" Both men laughed.  "Come on, man, there must have been SOMETHING between you two."

"All right, all right...we got close a few nights at her pad.  But that was it!"

"'Close' meaning..."

"I  _ almost  _ kissed her.  Almost.  But I didn't wanna do that to my baby again, man, you know?  And my baby got my baby now and everythingggg..." He was slurring his words.

"Yeah man.  You're a good egg.  To Slappy and Maureen!"

"Mary-Ellen, brother."

"Ahhh right, sorry!  To Slappy and Mary-Ellen and Annabelle!" they both clink and down their glasses. "Hey, let's get to the 100 Club!  Plenty of foxy ladies there!"

They got to the 100 Club and Slappy figured out why Wally loved disco so much.  The music was funkadelic, light from the disco ball caressed his body, beautiful women were everywhere and alcohol flowed.  Slappy flirted with a few women as they sat on one of the chintz couches. The only thing he didn't like about disco was that the stuff was impossible to dance to.  For him, that is; he couldn't move his feet as well as everyone else. But the music was great for picking up women.

Pete picked up a woman and went home with her, while Slappy went back to his hotel room celibate.  It was around 2 a.m., but not wanting to have nightmares, which had started to come back about midway through his stay in Paris, he flipped on the TV to a Monty Python's Flying Circus marathon and rested his head against the pillow.  He looked at the phone on his nightstand. He had been hellbent on keeping his return to Madison a surprise, but all these women he was encountering in his travels made him yearn for Mary-Ellen's voice. He picked up the phone and read the confusing instructions on how to dial internationally for about 15 minutes before he finally figured it out and dialed Stine's number.

In Madison, it was 6:00 p.m.  Mary-Ellen was home cooking dinner for everyone while Stine worked in his study.  Hannah had a night shift at the diner, Zach and Wally were at work in Wilmington and Lorraine was volunteering for a soup kitchen at the VFA.  Annabelle was now one year old and toddling around the kitchen.  Most of the time, Mary-Ellen found it endearing; Annabelle was go-go-go just like her father.  But other times, such as times like this when she was cooking and the phone was ringing, she could be a lot to handle. 

"Annabelle, go sit down!"  She pointed at the little girl's high chair, picking her up and putting her in it.  She sighed, flustered, and went over to the phone and answered it.

"Hello?" she tried to sound polite.

In London, Slappy set the mood, turning the lamp off and lowering the TV and stripping down to his white undershirt and slacks.  "Hey babe."

"Slappy??"

"The one and only!"

She could see his sexy wink even through the phone.  "Oh!! Hold on one second!" She put the phone down and went over to Annabelle and whispered excitedly.

"Hey sweetie!  Remember when we talked about surprising Papa with you talking and walking when he comes home?"

The doll smiled.

"Well he's on the phone right now, so go play with Grandpa!"  She picked up the little doll girl, who kissed her mother's cheek, and helped her walk over to Stine's study, putting her in one of his big chairs.  She then went back to the phone and picked it up, leaning against the wall and twirling the cord.

"Hiiii," she giggled.

Slappy had been waiting for her to come back and was startled by her voice, but recovered smoothly.  "Heyyyy, what's happening, baby?"

"Not much, just making dinner for everyone," she played with a crack in the wall.

"What time is it there?"

"6:00 at night.  Where are you, darling?  Are you still in the hospital?"

"Ahh...no.  Baby, I, uh...told Wally to keep this a secret from everyone, but...I miss you so I gotta tell you...I'm comin' home."

She gasped.  "You're coming home?!?!?"

"Shhhhhh, I don't want Papa to know!  At least until my medal ceremony in January."

"Oh yeah!  Baby, you're on the front page of the  _ Madison Journal! _  Most everyone is proud, but the principal at the high school banned the paper and a few people had some weird march protest thing that only about two people attended, so most people took it pretty well!"

Slappy laughed.  "Wow...can't wait to come home now."

"Congratulations, baby!  I'm so proud of you!"

"Yeahhh..."

"Wally said you were reacting that way.  Slappy, you saved those kids' lives! You're a hero!"

"Then why don't I feel like a hero, Mary?"

"You know, I think it's cause you spent so much time being evil that now that you've done a good deed, it's not, you know, registering."

Slappy snorted and laughed.  "What are you, a shrink now? How's my daughter?  She's one now, yeah?"

"She sure is!  Oh, Slappy, she's so big...her Uncle Wally is a bad influence on her, though.  Her first birthday party was disco themed."

They both laughed and Slappy sighed, his heart broken because he missed his daughter's party.  "I'm sorry I couldn't be there...does she still remember me?"

"Oh, 100%.  She shows me your picture every night now instead of me showing it to her.  We read the Medal of Honor story in the  _ Journal _ to her too a lot."

"Awww, good."

"But you know..." she put the phone down and went to go sit down on the living room couch, unzipping her dress a little and picking up the phone.  "Being a mom is exhausting. I could use a few more phone calls from my man..."

Slappy grinned evilly.  They were getting somewhere.  "I'll be home in three months, baby..."

"Slappy, you know that's too long...I've gone three years without your touch..."

"I know, baby.  So have I..."

"Slappy...have there been...any other women..."

"I'm in Europe, baby, I've had my chances, but I think of you every time I get close..."

Her heart melted.  Slappy heard her sigh into the phone.

"What are ya doin'?  Sounds like you're getting wild over there without me."

"Noo, I'm just in the living room."

"You alone?"

"No, Papa's in his study playing with Annabelle."

"Damn..."

She giggled.  "Baby, he's not gonna hear, you know how into his work he gets."

"I love you.  You know that."

"Those other pretty human girls didn't lure you away from me?"

"Never.  You're the mother of my child, baby.  I want you and only you."

Her heart melted into a pile of mush.  She kissed him through the phone and giggled.  He smiled and kissed her back.

"Baby, don't tell anyone else I'm coming home.  Not Annabelle, not Papa, nobody. You'll all watch me getting my medal.  I'm not gonna come home right away anyway."

"Oh?  Where are you going, baby?"

"I made a promise to my buddy before he died that I'd go to South Carolina to talk to his mother."

"Awww.  You're a good man, Slappy Stine."

"I'm tryin', honey."

"Where are you now?"

"London.  It's 2 in the morning."

"Are you still having nightmares?"

"Mmhm...can you stay on the phone with me?  Until I fall asleep, at least."

"Slappy, I gotta finish cooking dinner...Zach and Wally will be home soon."

He sighed, disappointed. 

"You'll be okay, honey.  Just go to sleep and think of nice things, like the baby or us making love." 

Slappy smiled gently.  "When I come home, you won't be leaving bed for a week."

Mary-Ellen sighed.  "Ohhh Slappy..." She bit her lip, trying not to let her dress fall, even though she desperately wanted it to, wishing she was alone with him.

"Mary...I love you so much, babe..."

"I love you..."

"I'm tired.  I'm gonna go to sleep.  I wish I had you to hold, though."

"I wish you were holding me...soon, darling.  I love you.  Good night."

"Night, love you."  He hung up and looked around the dark room as if expecting a ghost to pop up out of nowhere.  But there was nothing except the Monty Python boys on TV, so he leaned over and turned the volume up a bit and went to sleep.

Though he had had a good night and had just talked to his girlfriend, the inevitable nightmare came.

_ He was running away from planes dropping bomb after bomb through thick, heavy brush, Scooter and Champ slung over his shoulders.  Both men were bloody and injured, screaming in immense pain. Slappy wanted to keel over and quit; even with his new strength, carrying two grown human males was taking a huge toll on him physically as pools of green sweat fell from his body to the ground.  He ran past rows of soldiers shooting at the planes. _

_ "Slaps, don't stop running!  Ah!" Champ called, wincing in pain. _

_ "I'm goin'!  We gotta get you to the chopper!" _

_ The M*A*S*H chopper was in his sights, but just yards from it, machine gun fire from the North Vietnamese planes spliced through his back.  He fell to the ground yelling and dropping both men. He knew green blood was coming out of his back and he was about to die, but he looked up panting and saw Champ's face, bloody and panting, but also filled with disappointment, an emotion the young man almost never displayed.   _

_ "I'm sorry, man..." Slappy managed to croak. _

_ Champ looked like he was about to cry and shook his head.  Slappy looked at Scooter, who did the same thing. Slappy closed his eyes, hating himself for letting both of them down.  He didn't have much time to mope as the cool metal muzzle of a gun pressed into the back of his head and killed him. _

Slappy woke up screaming as usual.  The TV was still on, but the room was dark.  He turned on a lamp and panted.

"I let them down..."

He knew he didn't, but he was convinced he did.  If he had just killed the soldier that killed both of his friends, they'd still be alive.  He collapsed onto the pillow and stared at the ceiling. 

"Wally, I could use you right now, man..."

He fell asleep with the light on.  It was still a fitful, restless sleep.

He was in London until late November.  He and Pete did their morning briefings together and toured the UK.  They'd been warned to stay away from Ireland by the sergeants at the embassy and by various Londoners (though they couldn't tell if the latter were being biased or not), but they explored as far north as Scotland.  Slappy loved the rolling green hills of the English, Welsh and Scottish countryside.  They reminded him a lot of Delaware.  In Scotland, he loved the beer and the food and couldn't stop laughing at the Scottish accents.

At the end of November, Slappy and Pete reported for duty in the morning and Slappy learned that he was going to Hollywood.  He sucked in his breath.

"Back to America, man," Pete said.

"It's about damned time!"

"Congratulations!" they slapped hands and hugged.  "I'll watch your medal ceremony, man."

"Appreciate it, brother.  Hey Delaware's close to Jersey!  I'll come up and see ya!"

"Far out!!"

The sergeant smiled.  "You'll be on a flight back to the States tonight."

On the plane, Slappy tried to sleep but couldn't, not because of nightmares, but because it was finally here.  He was finally going back to America. And to  _ California, _ no less.  He'd always wanted to go to California and sunbathe on the beach surrounded by beautiful California babes.  He was talking to Mary-Ellen every night and loved her and though she was blonde, she was too innocent to be a California girl.  He also had Hollywood and Beverly Hills to look forward to.

When Slappy arrived at LAX, it was 9:00 a.m.  He got out of the gate and touched the carpet.

"American fuckin' soil, baby," he smiled, stretching out his arms and legs.  It'd been three years since he was on his native soil. It felt like he was walking on clouds in heaven.

He got his bags and went down the escalator and was greeted by a sergeant holding a paper with his name on it.  He approached the sergeant.

"Private Stine."

Slappy saluted.  "Sir."

"At ease, son.  Welcome home."

The two men shook hands.  "Thank you, sir."

"You don't have to do much while you're here.  Just do the same thing you did in Europe. Check in with us every morning and then the rest of the day is yours.  If you're not needed to return to Vietnam, you'll go by train to DC for your medal. Congratulations, kid! Oh and don't feel like you have to wear those greens anymore, unless you're on duty.  You're in California, for Christ's sake!"

Slappy smiled half-heartedly.  Despite everyone in his life trying to tell him that he was a hero, Slappy was convinced that there was probably no way he'd ever feel like one.  He got his paperwork and checked into the Beverly Hills Hotel.

For the next few weeks, Slappy lived a true Californian paradise that would put even The Beach Boys to shame.  After morning briefings, he hit the beach. California beaches were an entirely different world than Delaware beaches.  He and Wally used to hit up Rehoboth Beach all the time where he sunbathed and Wally surfed on what little waves crashed on the rocky shores.  California was yet another culture shock for Slappy, but in an excellent way finally. Californian women were all he could ask for and more. They were all walking the beach in beautiful bikinis and the best part was, he was so short that they wouldn't notice him staring at them.  Every time a pair of bikini-clad women walked past him, Slappy would raise his sunglasses and sing "California Girls" by The Beach Boys to himself, followed by "God, it's good to be home..." 

That wasn't all he did during the day.  After a trip to the beach, he'd shower and walk the Walk of Fame, not caring that he got lost among all of the taller humans surrounding him.  He was too busy pointing out all of the stars of his favorite movie stars and musicians. He went to Grauman's Chinese Theatre and was starstruck when he saw Harold Lloyd's and Douglas Fairbanks' hand and footprints, putting his small hands and feet in the places where their average-sized feet and hands lay.  Everywhere he looked, there was a new star: Jean Harlow, Marilyn Monroe and thousands more. He took a bus tour of Beverly Hills and even saw Pickfair. He made sure to take a bunch of pictures with the camera he bought and have them developed and send them to Stine.

At night, LA was more than a paradise.  It was a playground. A lot of the disco clubs were for LA's new homosexual underground, but Slappy didn't mind.  He wasn't looking for a hookup. He just wanted to party, celebrate, boogie and get wasted with whoever would. He heard from LA natives that the place to be on Friday nights was Studio One in West Hollywood.  So he went. It was like The Doors' "LA Woman" come to life. The music was funky and alcohol was everywhere and, just like the Moulin Rouge in Paris, it was a blur of colors and lights. He wasn't gay, so once he got a few drinks in him, he hit the dance floor stag and danced on his own.  Surprisingly to him, other straight people frequented the club and he danced with a few gorgeous women and some gay men. They never tried to hit on him. He figured dummy wasn't their type. When they told him that and he had a few drinks in him, a real winner was "so you like wood, but not TOO much wood!" That always got him laughs and another round of drinks.

To avoid nightmares, he got drunk and poured himself into bed around 6 a.m. every morning.  If he made it in at 5, he drunkenly called Mary-Ellen and told her about how he danced with gay men, lesbians and some straight women and how was that for getting with the times.  Mary-Ellen would just yawn and say "Good for you, honey..." Now that they were both in America and time zones were much easier to decipher, phone sex was successful. She was so close that Slappy could taste her...he told her he was only 3,000 miles from her body.  He told her he wished she was at the club with him, hooking up, dancing and drinking until dawn. 

Slappy was doing some serious things too.  In Beverly Hills, he passed a jewelry store on Rodeo Drive and looked at engagement rings.  They were beautiful, but he almost cried when he saw the prices.  He had to get Mary-Ellen  _something,_ but she needed something gorgeous, not something cheap from a strip mall jewelry store in Dover or Wilmington.  Mary-Ellen would probably say she was happy just to be engaged to him, but after the hell he put her through, he needed to step up to the plate and wouldn't be satisfied until he found the engagement ring to end all engagement rings.  When the shopkeepers told him the prices, he always tried to use his old Slappy skills and haggle.

"Can't you do  _something?_ Come on, man, I'm a Medal of Honor recipient and I only make 100 bucks a week!  And I put my girl through a lotta shit too and I wanna buy her something nice," he would say.

The shopkeepers always shook their heads.  "I'm sorry, sir.  $14,000 is the lowest we can go.   _Maybe_ we can cut it down to $11,000."

At that point, he'd just say "thank you" and leave.  The strip mall jewelry store would have to do.

At the beginning of December, Slappy arrived for his morning briefings and learned that it was time for him to go to Washington.  He sucked in air.  It was time to officially receive the title "hero."  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so long!! I wanted to combine the last leg of Europe with the first part of going back to America so I wouldn't be dragging it out over 3 chapters. Sorry it's so long again and hope everyone is still enjoying!! Feel free to like and/or comment :)


	19. Good American (Wooden) Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slappy goes to Washington and receives his medal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 70s stuff to know!
> 
> "Zach groaned trying to adjust the knobs" = in the 70s, if you wanted the picture on your TV to focus, you had to adjust the H-knob and V-knob on your TV set to get it to focus. That's what is meant by this line. :)
> 
> You can watch the 1972 Army-Navy game here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bhHQZW86ykA Even if you don't like football (shame on you), this is some cool historical footage and is used at the beginning of this chapter.

Slappy made it back to the East coast just in time for the Army-Navy game.  He took a bus to Philadelphia with the other medal recipients and marched into John F. Kennedy Stadium in the blistering cold in his dress greens, cap and winter coat with the other medal recipients and the 4.200 West Point cadets on December 2nd.  The fact that he was only an hour and a half away from home by bus...he pinched himself several times. He could go home at any time, especially now for the holidays, but he was still intent on keeping the surprise and he also had his medal to receive in January.

Watching the Army-Navy game was a tradition in the Stine household and even more so now that one of their family members was in the Army.  On the day of the big game, Stine and Lorraine cooked up a big feast and everyone sat down in the living room in front of the bulky rectangular TV.  Zach groaned trying to adjust the knobs to get the image to focus.

"Dad, I'm glad you finally upgraded, but I wonder when we'll have to stop doing this..."

Stine nodded knowingly.  "When we can get that damn antenna off the roof."

Lorraine came into the living room sporting a Navy baseball cap, a Navy shirt and carrying a little Navy flag.  Everyone stared daggers at her.

"Lorraine, what are you DOING???"  Hannah exclaimed.

Lorraine looked down at her outfit.  "I'm gettin' ready to cheer on Navy!"

"Lorraine, Slappy is in the _Army!_ "

She looked stunned.  "Oh...I guess I'll have to return all this to Macy's..."

They all laughed until Zach proclaimed, "Got it!" and sat down.  The color was grainy, but still good as the play-by-play announcer pointed out the fans, showing the Army and Navy cadets in the stands.  The camera cut to the Army and Navy medal recipients marching side by side onto the field in one column each. The camera showed an overhead view, then a side view of the Army medal recipients, marching with guns mounted on their right shoulders.  Hannah was the first to notice that one of the men was shorter than most.

"There's Slappy!!!" she pointed.

"Hey-heeey, there's our man!" Zach smiled.

"Ohhh, he's so handsome..." Mary-Ellen sighed dreamily.  Stine smiled proudly, almost choking back tears.

The Star-Spangled Banner played as the camera showed all of the Army and Navy medal recipients.  A shot with a clear view of Slappy saluting with the other recipients came onscreen and Wally snorted and shook his head.  

"What a little patriot," he and Zach laughed and took a sip of beer.

On the field, Slappy stood motionless and saluting, barely believing any of this was happening.  He was on a professional football stadium's field. His _home_ team's field, nonetheless; he'd watched the Eagles play here thousands of times on TV and when he, Stine, Zach, Champ and Wally used to go to games, but he'd never actually been on the field.  Now he was feeling the cold grass under his feet, hearing the Naval Academy Band play the anthem and the military planes fly overhead. It was all surreal.

The pregame festivities finally ended and Slappy made his way up into the stands with the rest of the Army medal recipients and the West Point cadets.  At home, Lorraine came back into the living room in her long-sleeved camouflage Army shirt.

"How's this?"

Hannah flashed her a thumbs up.  "Much better!"

The game moved right along to the opening kickoff as the camera showed the West Point cadets and Army medalists waving and cheering for the camera.  Slappy was sitting closest to the aisle, so the camera started with him waving and jostling the medal recipient next to him, then panned back up and across the average-sized military men.  Everyone in Stine's living room laughed.

"He ain't changed a bit!" Wally said.

At the game, Slappy and the Army side made some noise for the kickoff and laughed as they passed the "Beat Navy" donkey to the top of the bleachers.   The kicker kicked the ball and the game began.

In Madison, the mood was quickly brought down as Navy quickly scored two touchdowns.  Zach, Wally, Stine and Hannah yelled at the TV while Lorraine tried to figure out what was happening.  The mood was awful on the Army side of the stadium too, Slappy and the other recipients and cadets shaking their heads at the Black Knights being down 12-0 at the half.  

"Maaan, this game is a drag..." Zach said.

"Army's had an awful season, though.  Shouldn't be surprised they're playing like this," Mary-Ellen said matter-of-factly, observing her nails.  The men and Hannah (who was an avid sports fan herself) all stared at her in shock.

"You know football?!" Wally exclaimed.

"Duh!  I may be blonde and a doll, but I'm not _stupid!_ "

Wally and Zach looked at each other confused.  The third quarter started and Army forced two turnovers--an interception and a blocked field goal--to take the lead.  Army ran the blocked field goal back 84 yards for the touchdown to take a 13-12 lead. Slappy jumped up and down cheering and even let his average-sized fellow medal recipients pick him up.  Baseball was his favorite sport. Football he was okay with; he could understand it and talk football with a group of people and he of course loved the Eagles, but baseball was where his heart lay.  Still, he loved football all the same and when Army took the lead, he screamed as hard as his wooden lungs allowed him all the same. He also wished Champ were right there with him; Champ ate, slept and drank football.

Army won the game 23-15 and some of the cadets invited Slappy and some of the other medal recipients to a party at an apartment in South Philadelphia.  Slappy was back in his own country and an hour from home, but he was quickly getting caught up on what had transpired in America in the three years that he was gone.  He came to figure out that he had missed a lot. There seemed to be a new peace rally on every other street. They weren’t just protesting the war; while Slappy was in the hospital, the Watergate scandal had taken place.  Slappy knew what it was; the hospital got American news and Cronkite reported the break-in on CBS News. There were protests calling for Nixon to resign. Slappy was seeing Nixon in a months’ time. Or was he? He wondered how this scandal would affect who he’d be meeting on January 20th.  If he was meeting anyone at all.

It had been a while since Slappy had been to Philly.  He used to go up with Zach and the other men in his family all the time for Eagles, Flyers and Phillies games.  So he hit up all the places they used to go, then took a bus back to Washington.

Slappy found Washington kind of boring.  The monuments were cool, but walking around the museums tired him out--he was still limping slightly from his injury--and nothing was interesting in them anyway.  The Army required the medal recipients to visit injured soldiers at Walter Reed Hospital. Slappy went. Stine had told him not to worry about the lesson he had sent him to war to learn, but seeing these men who had done so much more than he did brought the reminder of that lesson back on his shoulders, crushing him like a weight as he walked through the hospital.  

Slappy didn't bother to ask if he could go home for the holidays, being so close.  He just assumed since he was technically still on reserve duty that he wouldn't be able to, so he spent Christmas Day in Washington.

January 20th finally came and Slappy dressed in his greens in his hotel room in front of his mirror, listening to I Want You Back by The Jackson Five on the phonograph that came with the room to calm his nerves.  He sighed. It was so beyond out of character for him to be nervous. In fact, he didn't even think Stine had written him to feel nervousness. He had no clue what he was going to say. He had no speech prepared. He was thinking that maybe he should turn down the medal; he still thought it was dumb luck that saved those kids.

Slappy sighed and combed his hair and sprayed cologne on him.  He'd never been on TV. The news coverage he got from nearly destroying a town didn't count.  He knew that NBC, ABC, CBS, local news stations and probably some Delaware news stations and maybe even some reporters from the _Madison Journal_ would make the drive up.  He never had to talk to the media after the incident due to Stine and the kids putting him back in the book.  He didn't have any media training. What the hell would he say? "Yeah, I used to be evil, but now it feels good to be a Medal of Honor recipient"?  Thank God? He had no idea. Not to mention (and Slappy knew it was ironic that he wasn't too thrilled about this) he'd be meeting a suspected criminal today.  

He looked at the finished product in the mirror.  He didn't think his hair could get long due to being a dummy, but he should've known that the damn soul inside him had been having other ideas for the past three years and it got a little longer when he was in Hollywood, turning into an old-fashioned duck cut like Zach and Champ used to have, so he'd gotten it cut back to his usual combover.  He frowned and scratched at his nose and chin scars. Slappy wasn't a vain person and he was sure no one would mind or even notice, but to him, those scars wouldn't look good on TV. Hopefully, they'd have makeup or something at the White House to try and cover them up. He took a deep breath and exhaled.

"Here goes nothin'..." he took his room key and left.                      

If Slappy thought there were a lot of Watergate protests in Philadelphia, they were twice as bad (and loud) in Washington. Crowds of hippies and anti-war protesters were blocking the White House gates and even harassed Slappy and the other medal recipients, calling them bootlickers and murderers.  Slappy wanted to desperately use his powers to get them to leave him alone, but the sad part was, he knew they were a little right on the murderer part. Though he'd gotten used to killing while he was in Vietnam and was doing what he had to do, he was smart enough to know that what he was doing was murder.  But at the same time, he was serving his country that he loved and fighting Communists, who he hated. He wanted to use his powers, or at least shout back at them, but he and the other servicemen knew it wouldn't be a good look, so they kept their cool and watched as the police held the protesters back from the gates so they could go in, sometimes spraying water on the hippies while they called Slappy and the other men and the cops pigs.  

 _Would this be what Madison would be like if I had destroyed_ _it?_ Slappy wondered as he looked in horror at the protesters being sprayed.  He thought there was senseless violence in Vietnam. This wasn't nearly half as bad, but it may as well have been.

Eventually, they made their way inside.  Slappy couldn't believe he was actually here.  Portraits of past presidents hung on the walls.  Slappy could hear his and the other men's footsteps make clopping noises on the polished wood floor.  Slappy was so in awe of the grand home that unbeknownst to him, he wandered away from the tour guide and the rest of the medal recipients.  Looking at the portraits, his eyes grew bigger and bigger. They were all here: Washington, Jefferson, Madison...even Kennedy's was up and he had been assassinated almost 10 years ago.  Slappy was so in awe of everything that he wasn't watching where he was going and bumped into someone.

"Oh...I'm sorry..." he looked up and his eyes and mouth widened and dropped as far as his wooden self would allow it.  He had bumped into Spiro Agnew himself.

The Vice President smiled down at him.  "Are you lost, son?"

Slappy stood there, speechless.   _What the hell do you call the Vice President?  Vice President? Mr.? "Potential Watergate Accomplice"?_

"Uh...M...Mr. Agnew, sir...no...no, I was just...looking around..."

Agnew smiled.  "Well, you better get back to the group, son!  Don't want to miss the rest of the tour! I'll see you at the medal ceremony."

"Y...yes, sir..." Slappy nodded and scurried back and rejoined the group.  Luckily they hadn't gotten far.

"I just met Spiro Agnew!" Slappy whispered to one of the other medal recipients, who laughed.

"Really?  Did you call him a criminal?"

Slappy laughed.  "I should have." In reality, Slappy didn't know how to feel about Nixon or any of the Republicans being guilty.  He'd mainly just said "I should have" to fit in.

In Madison, Lorraine finished baking the last pie and brewing the last pint of hot chocolate.  The entire town gathered in Stine's living room, seeking solace from the cold Delaware winter, to watch the dummy who had once tried to ruin their lives, but was now a hero in their eyes, receive his medal.  Everyone huddled around the TV with pieces of pie and hot chocolate mugs.

"Lorraine, hurry!  It's starting!" Stine called.  

"Coming, coming!  The last pie is done if anyone else wants some!"

Some of the younger kids ran into the kitchen to go get some pie as the newscast started.  

"It's ON, Lorraine!!!" Zach yelled.

"Lorraine, get the hell in here," Wally called, annoyed.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!!" The blonde woman scurried into the living room and sat next to Stine, giving him a peck on the lips, the two smiling proudly.  Lorraine hoped that Slappy thought of her as his stepmother; Stine knew the dummy had always wanted a mother and by marrying Lorraine, hopefully he'd given him that.  After the incident and their marriage, Slappy had grown fond of her.

"Twenty-five medal recipients are meeting President Nixon today," Walter Cronkite began his voiceover.  "Many are receiving the Bronze Star and Purple Heart, but only one, uh...young man is receiving the Medal of Honor."

Wally stifled a laugh. "'one, uh...young man,'" he imitated and he and Zach burst out laughing.

"That's enough, you two," Stine admonished.

Cronkite voiced over all of the medal recipients coming into the Oval Office and shaking Agnew's and the rest of the Cabinet's hands.  Slappy walked in and Cronkite mentioned his Medal of Honor, but the report was drowned out by everyone in Stine's living room pointing, shouting "there he is!!!!" and clapping and cheering loudly as they watched their dummy shake hands with all of the Cabinet members.

"He's so _serious,"_ Lorraine giggled.

"He's so _dreamy..."_ Mary-Ellen sighed.  Zach and Wally rolled their eyes.

"That's my boy..." Stine nodded and wiped a tear from his eye.  Hannah did the same, smiling proudly as she watched her brother, no longer a reckless, evil boy, but now a man.

"Papa!" Annabelle reached towards the TV screen in Mary-Ellen's arms.  Mary-Ellen and Wally, whom she was sitting next to, smiled at her.

The Purple Heart and Bronze Star and Army Commendation Medal recipients made their speeches and shook Nixon's hand.  Slappy was last and there were a lot of medal recipients, but that didn't stop his entire wooden body from shaking with nerves.  It was a long line, but he could see Nixon clearly, smiling and shaking the hand of each recipient as they posed for the cameras.  Slappy narrowed his eyes. He guessed it was because of his evil past and backstory and character, but he could tell when someone had the _look_ of evil and Nixon had it.  His smile was smarmy and when he smiled, his eyes turned beady and black.  Slappy made up his mind. The man was guilty.

"When's it gonna be his turn??" Mary-Ellen groaned impatiently.

"Cronks said there were 25 medalists.  Take a chill pill," Wally scoffed.

The doll rolled her eyes.  Finally, it was Slappy’s turn.  The whole living room leaned towards the TV with baited breath.  Slappy’s breath caught in his throat too as he approached the president as confidently as he could.  Nixon smiled down at him.

"Private Stine, it is my honor as President of the United States to award you, by act of Congress, the Medal of Honor for extreme valor and courage in battle."

Slappy stared up at him, still wracked by nerves.  Nixon winked at him and whispered,

"Turn around, son."

Slappy did as he was told and turned around as Nixon put the medal around his neck.  He looked down at the shiny gold and wondered what the kids he had supposedly saved were doing.  Were they in America? Were they still in the shelter? Even Friday crept into his mind. What was he doing?  Was he still in the hospital? Was he watching the ceremony?

He was brought back to reality by Nixon's voice.  "Why don't you say a few words, son? I imagine it must feel good to be a hero now after trying to destroy a town."

Slappy wished his jaw could fall to the ground.  He didn't care that viewers across the country could see his dumbfounded face.   _The fucking President of the United States knows who I am._ He looked at the camera, as if praying that Stine or Hannah or someone in Madison would tell him what the hell to say.

In Madison, everyone was just as stunned, staring at the TV screen.

"Did he just..." Lorraine began, her mouth barely moving.

"Yep..." Wally nodded.

Stine was enraged.  "That criminal piece of shit.  Who the hell does he think he is, talking to my son like that?"

"Dad, you don't know that he did anything..." Wally pointed out.

"His aides urged five conspirators to plead guilty to avoid trial!" Both men were standing now.

"His  _aides,_ not him!"

"Since when do you trust the government?"

"Both of you shut up!  Slappy's about to say something!  ...I think," Hannah looked at the TV. "Come on, Slappy, please say something..."

"He kind of deserves it," Zach shrugged.  Hannah rolled her eyes.

"Zach, come on.  I thought you forgave him?"

"I did.  But he still kind of deserves it," Hannah looked at Zach and then at her father, who nodded and rolled her eyes again.

Nixon smiled.  "Come on, son, say a few words!"

A few mics from various news stations sat on the desk in front of Slappy.  He approached them as cameras flashed in his face.  

"Oh my God, he's gonna say something..." Hannah bit her fingers.

"Take a chill pill, he's fine..." her husband put an arm around her and held her close.

"He looks handsome, that's all that matters...that's all that matters, Mary-Ellen..." Zach chuckled as Mary-Ellen tried to calm herself down, her eyes closed.

"Papa talk!" Annabelle kept reaching out.

"That's right, sweetie!  Let's hope he doesn't make a fool of himself!"

"He's done that already."

"Wally!" Stine scolded.

"Sorry."

They all leaned forward as Slappy approached the mics and cleared his throat.

"First of all...yes, that was me who tried to destroy Madison, Delaware on October 12, 1968.  I'd like to extend my apologies to them."

"So  _formal,"_ Lorraine observed.

"He didn't get any media training before this, did he?" Zach asked.

Slappy continued.  "Uh...I guess...that's all I have to say.  Well I guess...thank you, Mr. President, Vice President Agnew, Cabinet..." he nodded at all of them.  "Uh...Papa, if you're watching, I uh...I hope you're proud and everything.  Uh...thank you."

He walked away.  Everyone in Madison just stared at the TV.  Wally laughed and shook his head.

"Pathetic."

"He was on national TV, what did you want him to say?" Hannah shot back.

"He probably wanted to say Nixon was guilty but couldn't," Zach chuckled and took a sip of coffee.

"Dad, what did you think?"

Stine nodded.  "I'm proud of him..."

The reception was in the East Room.  Slappy drank Dr. Pepper even though he hated Dr. Pepper; he just needed to forget that Godawful speech.  What was he thinking?  What had the war turned him into?  He was usually so eloquent and cunning with his words, but apparently when cameras were on him, he was a babbling fool.  And he apologized.  Again.  And what was with  _Nixon_ knowing who he was?  Johnson was president when he had released the monsters and tried to destroy Madison.  

He was interrupted from his thoughts by a major approaching him.

"Private Stine?"

Slappy saluted. "Sir."

The major chuckled.  "At ease, kid, you're not in the Army anymore, technically.  Here's your official discharge papers and..." he pulled out two envelopes. "One of the guys thought you might want these.  Congratulations."

Slappy thanked him and opened the envelopes and took a deep breath.  They were Scooter's and Champ's official Army letters informing their families of their deaths.  That meant their bodies had been found.  Slappy looked around him in a trance.  His service was over.  He could change out of these damned dress greens.  He could go back to Delaware.  He could go grocery shopping at Wayfield again.  He could do whatever the hell he wanted again.  But first, he had an obligation to Scooter to go to South Carolina.

To the South it was.


	20. Deep in the Heart of the South

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slappy visits Scooter's family in South Carolina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is an Ella Fitzgerald song. ^_^
> 
> Slappy's outfit idea at the beginning of the chapter. I was thinking the guy in the middle: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/00/2a/f4/002af49d292c95e031e98678a977e135.gif
> 
> Image of soldiers on patrol in Vietnam. Use this to picture what Slappy and his fellow soldiers would look like on patrol in this chapter and the rest of the story where patrols are mentioned: https://qph.fs.quoracdn.net/main-qimg-d54e9326fb61d8c25a581083dc3f31cb-c
> 
> Also, I made another error: Dear John letters are NOT letters written to inform loved ones of a soldier's death; they're written to terminate a romantic relationship! I've gone back to Chapter 19 and edited and edited it in this chapter as well and in Chapter 10 when Hannah mentions them.
> 
> The Braves WERE a team in the 70s! Here's a Braves trading card from 1970 so you can see their jersey: https://i.pinimg.com/236x/e6/7a/ac/e67aac9b4a9c497018977314e6e67d4c--atlanta-braves-baseball-cards.jpg
> 
> The "Hank" Slappy refers to is Hank Aaron, who played for the Braves from 1954-1974.

Wally wasn't wrong.  Slappy had seen three African American teens being beat up by three white teens within five minutes of walking around downtown Charleston.  He could've used his powers to stop them, as he had to that racist from Alabama that had called Scooter the n word on his first day of patrols in Vietnam, but he was just too stunned.  How could this hatred still exist, even after all of Dr. King's work, after schools were desegregated?  Slappy remembered taking Hannah to school on the day Madison High was desegregated in 1967, the year that all schools in Delaware were.  He was stunned a little by it even then and that was before the incident when he was still evil.  But this was unlike anything he'd ever experienced.  Slappy moved quickly and slipped into a little diner.

It was a quiet little place with only a few people eating.  Slappy had gone clothes shopping in Washington with his check that he had received for winning his medal and had changed out of his greens on the train down (he'd also tucked his medal away deep inside his bag; he didn't want anyone to see it and fawn over him), so he was now wearing a white button-down shirt with gray spots and dark purple jeans.  He always made fun of the Navy, but here he was wearing bell bottoms.  Mary-Ellen was right; getting with the times was unavoidable.

A cute young brunette waitress approached him and said in a Southern accent, "Can I get ya anythin', darlin'?" she smiled sweetly.

The dummy looked up, startled by her voice, but recovered quickly as he always did when talking to attractive women.  "Uhh, just a Coke, please," and smiled.

"You got it."  She smiled and walked away.

Slappy looked out the window.  Besides the racism, Charleston was his first taste of quaint Southern life and he liked it.  The houses were all old antebellum South-style homes. The accents he could do without, but other than those and the racism, he was getting a good first impression of the South.

He looked down at his bag and saw Scooter's death notice letter poking out.  Sighing, he pulled the Western Union telegram, stained and crinkled due to his tears on the train south, out of the ripped envelope and read it once more.

_...1768 Gilbert Street Charleston South Carolina_

_The Secretary of the Army has asked me to express his deep regret that your son Private First Class Melvin Jackson died in Vietnam on November 28 1969.  He was on perimeter defense when engaged hostile forces in firefight.  Please accept my deepest sympathy.  This confirms personal notification made by a representative of the Secretary of the Army..._

Slappy held the telegram tight and closed his eyes, trying not to cry again.  The only thing that brought him comfort was silently laughing at the fact that old him would've been mad at the petty fact that Scooter hadn't told him that his real name was Melvin.  He was still filled with so much regret from the day Scooter died.  Even though he begged his soul not to, it filled his brain with memories of Scooter, two in particular.

**_(FLASHBACK - JULY 1969)_ **

_It was one of the hotter days in Vietnam.  It was mid-afternoon and it had just rained that morning.  Now it was sunny and humid.  Eighty-four degrees to be exact, according to one of the other soldiers in Slappy's unit.  Doug was still alive._

_It was normally this hot in the summer in Delaware and the men were all wearing tank tops, but the material was heavy camo and thanks to their heavy gear, bags and helmets, green sweat poured down Slappy's body.  The heat was also making the metal on his gun extremely hot and burning his hand.  Dust he kicked up from the ground as he walked covered his face and arms, coupled with his black eye paint and green sweat._

_It was hell, the puppet thought.  It really was hell._

_His unit was on patrol with another unit.  Slappy turned back to look up the hill as he walked to see a sea of jade green walking down._

_It was hard to believe that he'd arrived in Vietnam only two months earlier.  At first, the heavy gear made him fall over, but now, he was able to keep his balance for the most part.  It was Scooter that was having the harder time.  Slappy looked at the taller man staggering behind him, dripping in sweat and with a look Slappy would never forget.  It was a look of emotional pain and pain from heat exhaustion._

_"You all right, brother?" Slappy stopped so Scooter could catch up with him._

_"Yeah..." if it were Stine saying that, the puppet would say that he knew when the author was lying to him.  Here, he knew everyone was lying when they said they were fine, but you didn't want anyone to worry about you._

_Doug pulled out a cigarette and his lighter and took a drag and held out his cigarette case to the others.  "Anyone else want one?  Slaps?"_

_"I can't smoke, man.  You got a beer, I'll take it."_

_"This ain't the Ritz, brother."_

_Slappy laughed dryly with what little laughter his dry wooden vocal chords could muster.  "Don't have to tell me twice."_

_They kept walking.  Only time it should be this fucking hot is when you're scoring, Slappy thought.  Suddenly, Slappy felt Scooter collapse against him, pulling the dummy down by the dog tags around his neck, nearly choking him, bringing him down to the ground with him as the bigger man fainted from the heat._

_"Sarge!  Man down!"  Slappy called ahead._

_"Let him go, Stine," Sergeant Morris called back in a bored voice without looking behind him._

_Later on, Slappy would learn this was a commonplace attitude, but having been in Vietnam only two months at that point, he just stared straight ahead at the sergeant's back, flabbergasted._

_"Sir, he's just fainted..."_

_This time, the higher-ranking soldier turned back and barked, "I said let him go, Stine!  Move out!  That's an order!"_

_Slappy shook his head at him, fuming silently._

_"Slaps, here's some water," Jerry knelt next to the puppet, handing him a flask.  Slappy thanked him tersely and held Scooter's mouth open and dumped water in, also splashing some on his face._

_"Hey man...you all right.  Scoots, you all right?"_

_Scooter couldn't speak because his mouth was full of water, but he nodded quickly.  Slappy panted and smiled slightly, relieved as Scooter closed his eyes tight and opened them wide and shook his head.  He was alert._

_Scooter didn't have much time to regain focus because at that moment, machine gun fire rained through the middle of the patrol line._

_"Ohhhh shit, come on!" Slappy pulled Scooter up and ran with the other men into a field of medium-sized grass.  Scooter stumbled up on his own._

_"I'm fine, Slaps, I got it!"_

_"You sure?"_

_"Stop fuckin' worryin' about me and shoot, brother!"_

_The puppet nodded and got on his stomach in the tall grass, Scooter next to him.  The taller man chuckled slightly._

_"Ain't fair, man.  You so short, you completely hidden!"_

_Slappy smiled, slightly shaking his head.  "Double-edged sword, I think they call it?"  he shouted over the noise as he picked off a Vietcong soldier running past their hiding spot._

_Sergeant Morris was barking out orders to keep firing, even as bombs dropped right by Slappy and Scooter's hiding place._

_"Scoots!  You gotta get outta here, man, you just woke up!  I can get these bastards!"_

_"Hell naw, man!  I can take em with you!"_

_"Scooter--"_

_"Slaps, you got my back, I got yo back!  We in this war together, man!"_

_Slappy smiled at him confidently, nodding._

**_(END OF FLASHBACK)_ **

**_(FLASHBACK - OCTOBER 1969)_ **

_Today, it was raining.  Was it daytime?  Slappy couldn't tell, the sky was so damned black.  But the ground was lit up with machine gun fire as Slappy's unit was engaged in close combat with North Vietnamese troops.  Slappy made the stupid mistake of thinking he could take the Communists head-on and took to shooting them uncovered, out in the open.  A Vietcong soldier shot his hand and he yelled out in pain._

_"FUCK!  JESUS CHRIST!"  As green blood poured out of his hand, coupled with his green sweat and the rainwater on his body; though it was raining, the men still wore their tank top fatigues._

_"Slaps!  Behind here!"  Slappy found Scooter hiding behind a rock.  The beefy man nodded towards a rock across from him and Slappy dove behind it, burying his hand in the dirt as if he hoped that it would somehow stop the bleeding._

_"Get it out!" Scooter slid over to the puppet._

_"Ah...it hurts..." Slappy grimaced in pain and panted._

_"Looks like it...you got any sunglasses for that damn green blood of yours?  It's blinding!"_

_Slappy managed a hoarse laugh.  "Get me a pair too, bud. Aviators...ah..."_

_Scooter took to bandaging up the wound with gauze from his bag._

_"Hurry man, they're gettin' closer!"_

_"Christ, ya Goddamn puppet, I'm trying!" Scooter yelled and tried to go faster while trying to concentrate at the same time.  He just finished when the top of the rock was blown off by machine gun fire._

_"AHHHH, FUCK!"_

_"Grab onto me!"  Slappy knew he had no choice.  The rock was being split in two._

_"What??"_

_"Just do it!!  Unless you wanna die, pal!"_

_Scooter grabbed onto him and Slappy narrowed his eyes and Scooter felt himself being spirited away to a grassy area out of danger, but still in the midst of the fighting.  Slappy put his gun in his bad hand and immediately grimaced in pain the minute the metal came into contact with the bandaged but still open wound.  Still, he toughed it out and he and Scooter and the rest of the unit downed the rest of the Vietcong._

_After the fight was over, Slappy rested his head against a rock panting while Scooter was hunched over the ground on all fours, sweat dripping from his forehead, making his dark skin shiny as he panted.  He looked at his dummified soldier buddy._

_"Thanks for that..."_

_"Don't mention it..." Slappy managed to say even though he was out of breath.  His wooden face and arms were covered in dirt._

_Scooter panted for a while longer until he stopped, realizing something.  Slappy noticed._

_"You okay?"_

_"It was a year ago, wasn't it?" The black man looked at the white wooden dummy.  Slappy looked at him, confused._

_"What was...?"_

_"It's October 12th, man."_

_Slappy stopped panting and just stared at his buddy sadly and nodded, now completely aware of what he was talking about now.  He didn't even care to know how Scooter was keeping track of time._

_He didn't want it to, but as Slappy looked at his buddy in the pouring rain, a glowing green tear ran down his dirt-stained wooden cheek as his breathing recovered back to normal._

_"I hurt all those people..." the puppet shook his head, making water fall off of his helmet.  "And now a year later, I'm hurting more people..."_

_Scooter smirked.  "You hurtin' the RIGHT people this time, brother."_

_The puppet smiled.  "Fuck Communists."_

_Scooter smiled and the men hugged tightly.  "C'mon, man, let's go."_

**_(END OF FLASHBACK)_ **

"You got my back, I got yo back."  That had happened too many times in Slappy's life.  Someone said that to him and then let him down.  But Scooter didn't let him down.  For almost a year until the day he died, he was there, backing the puppet up as they fought the Vietcong together.  Slappy still felt, three years later, that it was he who let Scooter down.  He knew that there was nothing he could do.  He knew, he knew, he knew.  People kept telling him.  They just never served.  They didn't know the guilt a soldier felt when his buddy died.

"Hey, are you all right there, sugar?"

Slappy was pulled out of his reminiscing by the waitress, who was hovering over him concerned.  Slappy felt his face stinging and realized he'd been crying.  He quickly wiped his tears.

"You were cryin'..."

"I-I'm fine..."

The waitress sat down across from him and said in a sweet, knowing tone, "You just got back from Nam, didn't you?  Saw you on the TV."

Slappy wasn't in the right state and didn't care enough to ask which time she'd seen him on TV, so he just nodded.

"Yeah...yeah, I did."  He could see that her name tag said Peggy Sue.  He smiled.

"Like the Buddy Holly song!"

Peggy Sue looked confused at first, but then looked down at her name tag and giggled and blushed.  "Ohhh...yeahhhh, I was born juuust before the song came out, though. Do you want some food, honey?  The chicken n' dumplins are amazin'!"

"Oh...no, no thank you, I'm not hungry."

Peggy Sue observed the puppet closer.  "You ain't from around here, are you?"

"Nah, I'm from Delaware.  My buddy is--was--from here.  I made a promise to him before he died that I'd go talk to his mother."

Peggy Sue nodded and smiled and got up.  "Not bad for an evil ventriloquist's doll!"

Slappy smirked.  Guess that answered where she'd seen him on TV before.  He grabbed his bag. "I...better go. Oh..." he reached into his wallet and was about to place a dollar for the Coke on the table when Peggy Sue put her hand up and shook her head.

"No, please, it's on the house.  We love our boys here in the South!"

That made Slappy realize that he hadn't seen any anti-war protests since he arrived in Charleston.   _Yeah and you love racism too._

Slappy went into the bathroom and changed into his greens and cap, sans the medal.  He wasn't on official Army business due to not being in the Army anymore, but he felt that if he was the one handing out these death notices to his friends' parents, he ought to look like he actually knew them and not a scrub off the street.  He went back out to the diner and started to make his way out. Peggy Sue called,

"You come back now, handsome!  Y'hear?"

He turned around and nodded smiling.  "I will!" and left.

There were no cabs in the old-fashioned Southern city.  Instead, he ran and hopped onto a streetcar and took it all the way to Gilbert Street.  He got the looks he expected to get from the passengers on the trolley, but for some reason, because it was the South, it made the looks ten times more piercing.   _So much for Southern hospitality_ , the puppet thought.  No one would let him sit next to them except an elderly woman who smiled at him.  He smiled back and sat down next to her.  That didn't stop the stares, so he had no choice but to look down and read Scooter's telegram again and try not to cry.

Finally, the trolley stopped on Gilbert Street.  It was a quiet little residential neighborhood away from the hustle and bustle of downtown.  Slappy hadn't forgotten Scooter's address in the four years since the taller man had told it to the puppet as he was dying in battle, so he walked down the street on the even-numbered side.  1760, 1762, 1764...he kept walking, but no 1768.  He was confused and almost felt hurt and betrayed.  Had Scooter lied to him with his last words?

He got to the 1770s and decided to stop, put his emotions aside and retrace his steps in case he'd missed a house.  And sure enough, he had missed a tiny brick house with an indoor porch in the back.  Slappy looked at it for a while and sighed.  It was then that he realized that Scooter wasn't drafted; he enlisted to get away from a life of poverty.

The puppet took a deep breath.  "Here goes nothin'..." He felt like he'd been saying that a lot these past few months.  He approached the doorbell and was just tall enough to reach up and ring it.  He waited.  He didn't know what he was more nervous for:  receiving his medal or this.

He was waiting for a while until eventually, he heard a latch unlock and the door opened to reveal an older African-American lady in a gold dress with roses on it.  She had shoulder-length black curly hair and wore red lipstick.  She, like all average-sized people when they came into contact with Slappy for the first time, looked around to see who had rung the doorbell.  Slappy waited; he was used to it.  Finally, the woman looked down and stared at Slappy in confused horror and shock.  She spoke and her Southern accent was thick.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Uhhhh..." Slappy cleared his throat.  "Ummm..." He tried desperately to find words, but had no clue what to say because the woman's eyes were boring down into his.  Much to his relief, two young children, a boy and a girl around eight, came running up to the woman.  The boy wore a button-down plaid shirt and blue slacks and the girl wore a red dress with little roses tied with a little tie.  Slappy wondered why they were all dressed so formally, then he remembered that today was Sunday; they had probably just gone to church.  A look of realization came upon the little girl's face.

"I know him, Mama!"

"Yeah, this is the guy from Daddy's pictures!" the boy smiled up at his grandmother, who now smiled at Slappy.

"Come on in, child!  It's cold out."

Slappy smiled.  "Thank you."  
  
He entered the small living room that was still stuck in the 60s, despite it being 1973.  There was a white sofa with big, gaudy roses on it across from an old black-and-white tube TV set.  The only modern thing about the room was the lamp on the end table.

Slappy walked in and took off his cap and moved it around in his hands, still nervous even though the family had welcomed him into their home.  Scooter's kids sat on the couch and stared at him.  By the looks on their faces, Slappy could tell they weren't used to having a white man in their home.  Either a white man or a dummy, or both.  He couldn't tell.

Scooter's mother finished puttering around and noticed that the puppet was still standing.  "Well sit down, boy!" She indicated the easy chair behind him.

"Oh...thank you," Slappy did as he was told.    

"Would you like some iced tea?  It's sweet tea!" the woman smiled sweetly.  Slappy smiled too; now here was some Southern hospitality finally.

"Thank you, but I had a Coke before I got here."

"All right, baby.  But you two are getting some," she looked at the kids.  The boy groaned.

"Awwww, Ma!"

"No whinin', Jermaine!  It's good for you!"

Scooter's mother went into the kitchen and came back with two tall glasses of iced tea with two straws for the kids, who took them and sipped.  The woman sat down in the easy chair across from Slappy.

"So you know my son?"

Slappy cleared his throat.  "Uh, yes, ma'am.  He and I served together in Vietnam."

Jermaine got up and picked up a picture off the dining room hutch and walked back over to Slappy.  "This you, right?" he handed the picture to the puppet, who observed it and smiled, feeling nostalgic.  It was an 35mm color photograph of Scooter and Slappy in Vietnam in their green fatigues, the taller man bending down next to the shorter dummy, both men with one arm around each other.  Scooter was smiling, but Slappy was squinting and only half-smiling due to the sun being in his eyes.  A tear almost fell from Slappy's eye when he read Scooter's chicken-scratch handwriting in blue ink at the bottom of the picture:  "Scoots n' Slaps, U.S. Army Tien Giang '69."

"Sure is!"

"See, Ma?  I told ya it was him!" 

Slappy smiled; he liked this family.  He'd have asked to stay if he didn't have a family of his own up north.  They seemed to be the only people who hadn't heard of him because of the incident, or if they did, they didn't care.    

"Was Melvin okay when you left Nam, Mr...?"

"Oh, I'm Slappy.  And that's...why I'm here, ma'am.  Um..."

He rose and walked over to the woman and handed her the fateful telegram and walked backwards back to his seat and sat back down.  Jermaine and his sister huddled up next to her and all three of them read the note.  The woman's mouth slowly fell open as she looked up with a defeated stare on her face.  The little girl looked at Slappy and ran away upstairs, crying.  Jermaine didn't cry, but trudged upstairs after her, defeated.  Slappy watched them leave and looked back at Mrs. Jackson.  She was sobbing into the already wrinkled telegram.

"Mrs. Jackson, I'm sorry..."

"How..."

Slappy took a shuddering breath.  He knew it was pointless to ask the soul to not make him cry, so he let a green tear slide down his wooden cheek.  "It was a week after Thanksgiving.  We got woken up early by some Charlies and...they got him in the heart.  I'm so sorry..."

Mrs. Jackson cried harder now, getting up and walking over to the hutch and slamming the piece of paper down on the hutch and covering her eyes with her hands crying.

"Damn, damn, damnnnnn!  No, no, no, oh Goddddd!"

Slappy watched her cry for a little while longer, frozen in his seat.  He wanted to comfort her, but he wasn't written for that.  He wanted to say something, but he wasn't written for that either.  Instead, he stood up, twiddling his cap in his hands.

"I should go.  I'm deeply sorry, Mrs. Jackson."

He made his way to the door when she stopped him.

"Wait...please..." 

Slappy stopped and turned around to face her.  She walked over to him.

"W...was he your friend?" she asked through tears.

She didn't care that the little man's tears that stained his wooden face were neon green.  Slappy, however, did and tried to hold them back, but to no avail as he nodded.

"He was my best friend...and he called me his too..."

Mrs. Jackson bent down and hugged him tightly, sobbing into his jacket.  He felt that feeling called comfort again as they sobbed into each other. 

"I really should go, I have to get back to Delaware..." he turned to leave.

"Wait!  Won't ya stay for dinner?  We're havin' grits!" 

Slappy smiled, remembering how much Scooter raved about his mom's grits.  He turned back around to face her.

"Scoots said ya had really good grits," he chuckled sheepishly. 

"Best damned grits in the state!"

He smiled.  "I'll stick around.  I mean...I'll stay.  Thank you."

Mrs. Jackson smiled.  As dinner cooked, Slappy chatted with Scooter's children in the sitting room.  Jermaine ran upstairs and then back down, wearing an Atlanta Braves pinstripe jersey and hat with a baseball glove on his right hand.

"Hey mister, do you like baseball?"

"Sure do!  Braves fan, huh?  You must like Hank!"

"Heck yeah!  You know, he hit 34 home runs last year and drove in 77 RBI!"

His sister rolled her eyes as she played with her dolls.  "Jermaine, he don't wanna play no baseball with you."

"Shut up, Cheryl!  Anyway, I collect baseball cards!  You got any?" 

"Well, I'm a Phillies man, kid and it just so happens..." Slappy pulled a baseball card out of his bag.  "I found this Deron Johnson card when I was in Washington!  Here, take it.  I got plenty of cards of him back home in Delaware."

Jermaine's face lit up looking at the card.  "Wow, far out!  Thanks dude!"

"Don't mention it, bud!  You play?"

"Yeahhh, I ain't that good, though..." Jermaine looked down.

"Chin up, kid.  You think Hank got where he is by mopin' around like that?"

Jermaine smiled at him.  "Thanks sir."

"Dinner's ready!" Mrs. Jackson called.

At the dining room table, everyone was served grits, chicken and dumplings and biscuits and gravy.  Slappy took one spoonful of grits and his eyes widened.  Scooter wasn't lying.  He'd never had grits, but these were to die for.  It was the kind of food you knew you didn't have to try someone else's version of because you had found the best one. 

"These are amazing, ma'am!" Slappy complimented Mrs. Jackson.

"Told ya Ma's grits was the best!" Jermaine piped up.

"You didn't tell him anything," Cheryl said.

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

Mrs. Jackson banged her spoon in front of both of them.  "I'll whoop y'all if y'all do that again!"

"Sorry ma'am..." they said in unison, hanging their heads.

They eventually finished dinner.  Slappy held his hand to his mouth to conceal a burp.  He was stuffed.

"This was delicious, ma'am.  Thank you.  Scooter wasn't lyin' when he said you were a great cook.  But I really should go, my bus back north leaves tomorrow morning."

"Awww, ya sure I can't get ya some peach cobbler, child?"

"Oh no thank you, please...this was more than enough."

She looked down at him while they both stood at the door as he put his cap on and got his bag.

"Thank you for your hospitality, ma'am."

"No, Slappy...thank you for telling me about Melvin.  I can see why he always talked about you in his letters."

Slappy smiled proudly.  "Thank you, ma'am," was all he could think to say again.  As he turned to leave, a look of realization suddenly came on his face, followed by the face he always made when he got an idea.  Turning back to Mrs. Jackson, he asked,

"Ma'am, do you know of any jewelry stores around here?"

 

    

    


	21. Welcome Back, Stine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slappy comes home!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is based on the show Welcome Back, Kotter, which ran from 1975-1979.
> 
> There will be puppet sex, so turn back now if that makes you uncomfortable. Sorry!!
> 
> This is what I was thinking for Mary-Ellen's ring! ^_^ https://images.britcdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/06/17043Y-Yellow-Gold.png?auto=format&q=50
> 
> The style I was thinking for Zach's hair: https://i.pinimg.com/236x/66/01/11/660111a734ef5366dc4259bd3fee66f9.jpg
> 
> Klondike Pete's Crunchy Nuggets (cereal): https://metvcdn.metv.com/VlkNL-1443470836-148-list_items-cereal_klondikepetescrunchynuggets.jpg
> 
> On a more serious note: I'm going to try and wrap up this fic as quickly as possible now because I have a few Grand Theft Auto IV fics I want to get started on (including a GTA IV/Goosebumps crossover for Halloween!), but I'll still try not to rush things! Thanks for reading. :)
> 
> Speaking of GTA IV, I needed an Italian restaurant in Madison, so naturally I thought of Drusilla's. :P

It was raining on the Greyhound back to Philadelphia.  It reminded Slappy of _It Happened One Night_ , another movie he'd seen a thousand times.  He had to take the Greyhound back to Philly, then another bus that served as a sort of shuttle between Philadelphia, New Jersey, New York City and Delaware back down to Madison, or somewhere close to it; not a lot of public transit went to Madison, it being a small town and all.

Slappy was in a disbelieving trance for about seven hours of the 13-hour bus ride to Philly.  He was finally going home. He had loved Europe and California, but ever since he had gotten over the initial shock of receiving the notice of his discharge in the hospital in Saigon, he had longed for home.  In 16 hours, he'd get one of Hannah's amazing hugs, have a beer with Zach and Wally (Wally was STILL pestering him about the beer he supposedly owed him in his phone calls), maybe go to a party with the guys like back in the old days, maybe say hi to Mrs. Cooper and get a hug from Lorraine.  And of course, he'd get to see his daughter and how big she was getting. Slappy couldn't wait to give Annabelle the biggest hug on the planet. He was even looking forward to the awkward exchange with his father. And...

Slappy felt into his bag and found the little navy blue box and pulled it out and opened it.  He smiled, proud of himself; it was a beautiful ring--the band was gold with a beautifully cut diamond in the center--but his opinion didn't matter.  What mattered was whether Mary-Ellen liked it. He considered himself a lucky man that he got such a beautiful ring at a such a steal: $1,871. He hadn't saved that much from his weekly stipends after spending it on discos, drinks and dinners and some souvenirs, but he was heading back to Delaware with about $200, minus a few bucks for bus tickets.  Now he just had to get a job and pay for the ring. That was the other thing. He'd have to support his family. How? What skills did he have? Destroying towns, magic powers...oh, and shooting people. _Great talents,_ he thought.   _Anyone should hire me at this rate!  I'm gonna end up working at the fuckin' diner like my sister and future wife._   He'd never served time for what he did to Madison, but employers there would treat him as if he had a criminal record.  He decided that he'd maybe look for work in Wilmington or Dover or maybe even Philadelphia; it'd be a hell of a commute, but at least there'd be no protests about allowing an evil ventriloquist dummy into the local workforce.

Champ's parents also awaited him at home.  Champ's death notice peeked up at him from his bag.  He didn't have to read it; it was identical to Scooter's, with just the name, situation, date of death and hometown changed.  He imagined he'd go about telling them the same way he told Scooter's mother, but there was an added obstacle. Champ's parents did not trust the dummy.  He knew that. When he had called Stine after he received his medal, the older man mentioned that the dead boy's parents hadn't come to the viewing party.  He'd probably have to put up with accusations of murder, which he wished he could just laugh off and say the kid had gotten himself killed, which he technically did; he _had_ rushed head-on into enemy fire, after all.  But that would probably upset them even more.    

Slappy tried to put the negative aspects of returning home out of his mind.  Now came the question of how he was going to propose. He thought about asking Zach how he proposed (he was sure Hannah had told him how in one of her letters to him, but he'd forgotten in all the hubbub of the war), but he still had that "surprise" thing shoved up his ass and he hated it.  One part of him wanted some fancy, elaborate proposal to make up for all the hell he'd put Mary-Ellen through (he knew all girls fantasized about that kind of proposal anyway. At least Hannah did), while the other part wanted her so badly that he wanted to propose the second he saw her. Propose, get an "oh Slappy!  I love you!!" then end up in bed running his hands through her beautiful blonde curls and kissing her plastic lips...

Slappy snapped out of his trance and checked to see if his hand was down his pants on a bus full of humans.  It wasn't. Thank God. He'd have to convince her it wasn't just all about sex with her. It wasn't; he literally could not see himself with any woman but her, human or doll.  He loved her. He saw her face before the anesthesia kicked in in the hospital. He thought about if he'd ever see her again every time Vietnamese kids were shooting at him. He _wished_ it was just sex and he didn't have any emotional connection to her, but Jesus Christ, he said to himself with a determined look on his face, he loved this woman and by God, he was gonna make her his wife.  And have sex with her because God knows he needed some action. And it would feel good to have it with the woman he loved instead of temptation from random human women he met in his travels. It would be more than just sex.  It would be home. Hell, it'd be good to do it with someone his own size.

Slappy fell asleep for the rest of the ride, letting all of these thoughts fight a war of their own in his head.  They filled it so much that his brain didn't have enough room to give him any war flashbacks. Flashes of color hit his closed eyelids and he opened them and saw the lights of the tall skyscrapers of the City of Brotherly Love.  Slappy yawned and checked his watch. It was midnight. He smiled. Four more hours.

Slappy got off the bus and boarded another Greyhound to Middletown, which was about 20 minutes from Madison.  The bus pulled into Middletown four hours later and Slappy got off. He yawned; he was barely awake despite sleeping on both buses, but he was awake enough to know that he was in his home state.  His feet were touching Delawarean soil. Finally. He was almost there; a 20-minute bus ride stood between him and Madison. Taking a deep breath, he boarded the 302 bound for Dover.

"Forest Valley Drive!" the driver called out.

Despite it not being the last stop, Slappy was the only one on the bus, sitting in the back so no one would notice him.  Everyone else had gotten off in some of the bigger towns. He'd spent the ride sort of sleeping awake, with his head against the seat, not really looking out the window.  Now that he felt the bus stop and heard the driver's voice, he looked out the window and felt the familiar feeling of his breath catching in his throat.

Madison.  He was home.  After three years, he was finally home.

"Son, didn't you wanna get off here?" the bus driver called, looking at Slappy in his rear view mirror.  The dummy snapped to attention.

"Oh!  Uh, yeah.  Sorry." He grabbed his bag and made his way to the front of the bus.  He had caught the bus just as it was leaving Middletown and didn't have time to pay his fare, so when he got to the front, he pulled 75 cents out of his wallet and was about to put it in the coin slot when the driver waved his hand and shook his head.

"You were the only soldier on this bus.  And a Medal of Honor winner! Your ride is free, kid," he smiled.

Slappy stared at him blankly.  He never thought he'd receive this treatment from someone in his home state where everyone knew what he did, let alone fighting in a war that half of America staunchly opposed.

"A...are you sure?"

"Positive.  Now go home and see your family."

Slappy nodded once with a small smile.  "Thank you."

He got off the bus and watched it drive away.  He rotated his head left and right, looking up and down the dark rural road, snow still on the ground, somberly.  He looked up at the sky. It was the same color and level of darkness as it was on that night when he released the Giant Praying Mantis and E. Ville Creeper's Plants.  It was only six years ago, but it seemed like a decade ago. Though Slappy technically didn't age, he'd left Madison a reckless boy, but now, he looked up and down the highway and could (he wasn't sure if he could say it proudly, but he could say it) say that he was a man who'd been to hell and back.  Slappy figured that was what aging felt like. He wasn't physically older, but he _felt_ older.

All of a sudden, Slappy dreaded going into town.  It was hard enough just standing on the long stretch of road in the same level of darkness.  If he didn't belong in Madison six years ago, he definitely wouldn't belong there now. Slappy liked to think war had changed him, but he knew that no one would buy what he was selling.  He had half a mind to pitch a tent on the side of the highway and just live there until someone put him to sleep for good. But he figured he didn't get a Medal of Honor for cowardice, so he picked himself up by his bootstraps and after taking a deep breath and avoiding saying "here goes nothin'" for the billionth time in a month, made his way into town.

As he walked, he thought of Brent Green.  Hannah told him that the invisible boy had been tormenting the kids and Stine on the road that night too.  He wondered what Brent was up to and whether he was in his book or not. Not like he'd be able to see him anyway.

A mile later, he was in town and it was as bad as he thought it'd be.  Ghosts from his past were everywhere. He passed Wayfield and started craving a can of Coke, but decided against it; he didn't want to see anyone.  It was closed anyhow. He passed the high school, deserted and dark in the wee morning hour. There was no one on the streets given that it was 4:30 in the morning, but it was a Tuesday and they'd be up soon for work and school. 

Slappy went into his usual haunt (pun intended), the cemetery.  It was covered by fog in the early morning.

"No graveyard ghouls here..." he mused quietly.

He sat down on the rock hedge by the entrance and faced the rest of the town.  He could see the police station in the distance. He was both surprised and not surprised that literally nothing in Madison had changed.  Every building, every tree, every crack in the sidewalk was still the same. Slappy was reminded of that _Twilight Zone_ episode, _The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street._ Or that episode where the husband and wife are in a town with no one in it.    

Slappy turned back to the cemetery and rotated his head left and right.  He was glad no one was awake. If someone saw a ventriloquist dummy in a cemetery, all hell would break loose again.  Realizations had been crushing him like dead weights for the past five years, but this was probably the biggest one of all.

He didn't want to be here.

The formerly evil ventriloquist dummy did not want to be in a cemetery, especially when it was dark.

_What the hell is this?!  I'm afraid of cemeteries now???  Jesus Christ, I'm a fucking baby.  Wait till Wally hears about this._

A shiver ran down Slappy's wooden spine and he reached into his bag and put his jacket on.  As he put it on, he noticed his medal at the bottom of his bag. He sighed wistfully; he'd forgotten it, like an abandoned toy.  He felt like he was going to regret it, but he reached down into the bag slowly and took it out and carefully put it on around his neck as if he were handling glass.  For the first time since he got his medal, a slight smile crossed the dummy's wooden lips. He felt pride, but not arrogant pride like he usually felt. He really was truly proud of himself.  Maybe he did deserve this medal. Slappy thought back to Thao, the soldier he'd killed in his first battle and how Hanh had said he had wanted to become a doctor. He'd stolen his future from him, but he saved many more futures by saving those kids.  He looked back up at the cemetery that was growing lighter with rising sun as it was now five in the morning. His face grew determined. He could do this. He had a long journey and it had come with an excellent reward. It was time to go home. Content with his decision, he laid his head down on the grass and fell asleep.  He was ready, but he was also dog-tired.

Two hours later, the sun beat down on him and the last of that winter's snow was melting off of the headstones.  The dummy stirred and rubbed his eyes. _Now_ it was time to go home.  He grabbed his bag and headed off in the direction of Stine's house.

Slappy's uneasiness grew back as he passed the police station.  He tried to swallow it and remember the confidence he gained earlier, but he still felt guilty about what he did to Lorraine and Officer Stevens and Officer Brooks that night.  He thought he could see Stevens through the window and he was right; the dark-haired police officer looked up, spotted the dummy and raised a hand with a slight smile on his face.  Slappy made the same action. Stevens got up and came outside into the sunlight smiling.

"Hey Stine!  Welcome home!"

Slappy was taken aback by the officer's friendliness after what he'd done.  Interesting that no matter how evil you were, winning a medal could make people kiss your ass.

"Thanks sir.  Where's Brooks?"

"Oh, she's...she's moved on.  She works in Washington now for the government.  Did you see her there?"

"No.  No I didn't."

Stevens looked down for a minute sadly, then perked up again. "We sure missed you around here!  It's been too quiet. We thought we could count on your brother to shake things up, but he's useless as hell."

Slappy laughed heartily.  "Don't have to tell me that twice!"

He said goodbye and turned to walk away when Stevens got his attention again.  "Hey Slappy, go home and see your dad, okay? He hasn't been the same since you left."

Slappy looked at the officer sadly and nodded.  "I will."

Stevens half smiled.  "Good to have you home, Slappy."  The puppet watched him go back inside and looked ahead of him.  Monroe Ave. loomed ahead of him. So Stine hadn't been the same since he was gone.  Maybe everyone was telling him the truth and the author really did miss his son. Still, Slappy's confidence from that morning in the graveyard was waning.  Maybe looking at the house would bring him back up. So he mustered up some confidence and took confident strides towards the quiet little street.

He turned onto Monroe.  After five years of hearing nothing but explosions and guns and loud noises in general, the quiet of the street--and the town in general--was unsettling and eerie.  It was so strange that the dummy was hearing a ringing in his ear drums due to the change in volume. He could see the high upper room of Stine's house even from where he stood at the top of the street.  He took a deep breath and took confident strides down the street. 

He was in front of it.  All sorts of emotions were running through his mind.  After five years, he was finally back in front of his old home (his and Wally's apartment was a few blocks away).  His gaze traveled upward to where he knew the room where he had unlocked his book and came out and wreaked his revenge on Stine six years ago was.  It was like looking at a haunted house. 

After another deep breath, he was about to make his way up the brick path to the front door when it opened.  Slappy stood rooted to the spot, frozen. He knew his family, but he was still frozen with fear. But he swallowed it and looked up.  

Zach appeared.  At least, he thought it was Zach; Cooper looked radically different.  It looked like Mary-Ellen had told him to get with the times too. His hair, formerly straight and short, was now thick, full and longer with sideburns.  He even had a thick black mustache. He wore bell-bottom jeans and a tight, short-sleeved button down polo shirt. 

Zach closed the door and looked up to see his brother-in-law before him and stopped in his tracks.  He wasn't the creepy dummy that had first appeared in Stine's study all those years ago. He was still a dummy, but he was a man now, a combat veteran that stood before him in his Army dress greens and dress cap.  Zach saw something different in the puppet's eyes. _He's seen some shit,_ the human man thought.  Zach had met some of the veterans Lorraine worked with at the VFA and it was hard to know what to say and much harder when it was a family member.  Luckily, Slappy broke the ice, doing so in his old condescending tone that he used to speak to Zach with.

"What's that stupid shit on your face?"

Zach continued staring at his relative by marriage for a little bit longer until a smirk came on his face that turned into a smile, accompanied by a growing laughter.  Slappy smiled too. The two men didn't run, but they casually approached each other and Zach bent down and hugged his wooden brother-in-law.

"How are ya, man?" the human asked.

"All right."

"Come on in!  Everyone's still asleep.  I'll call in sick to work."

Slappy rolled his eyes.  "Don't do that just for me, man..."

Zach laughed.  "Brother, you just got home!  And I don't feel much like talking to Navy guys today anyway."

The dummy chuckled too.  "You and me both, brother."    

While Zach called his work, Slappy set down his bag and looked around, shaking his head.  He knew Stine was old-fashioned, but literally nothing had changed in five years. The only thing that had changed was a new color TV set in the living room and two gold sofas around it. 

"You want something to eat or drink or anything?" Zach asked, snapping the puppet out of his reverie.  "I'd offer you beer, but Hannah will kick my ass if we drink before noon," he chuckled.

"Nah, I'm okay," Slappy walked into the kitchen and sat at the same stool at the island that he had sat at the morning he left for Vietnam.  He felt like breaking down and crying right then and there. Zach poured himself some Klondike Pete's Crunchy Nuggets and looked at his wooden brother inquisitively.  Something was off about him. No evil laugh. No threatening language. He just sat there at the island bored. It was like he was a shell of his former self. Lorraine had taught him some things about talking to combat veterans, so he tread lightly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I guess."

Zach noticed his medal.  "Congratulations, by the way, man."

"Yeah."

Zach nodded and looked down as the conversation hit a dead end.  Slappy noticed and felt bad.

"I'm sorry, man.  It's just weird being home, you know?"

"Don't worry about it, it's cool.  Actually, I hate to make you feel worse, but...Dad kept your old room up and running if you wanna go put your stuff down or change or shower."

Slappy snorted.  "'Up and running'?"

Both men chuckled, remembering Stine's fondness for old-fashioned slang.  

"But yeah, maybe I'll shower, I...got somethin' I wanna do, so I gotta look good."

"Uh-oh, I don't like the sound of that," Zach teased.

The dummy chuckled and went over to his bag and pulled out the ring box.  Coming back to the island, he handed it to Zach, who opened it and took the ring out and let out a low whistle as he observed it, moving it around in his fingers.

"This must've cost you a pretty penny!"

"Thousand bucks, close to two."

Zach let out another low whistle.

"You should've seen what the Californians wanted for something twice as nice as that."

Zach put the ring back in the box and handed it back and looked at his brother, concerned.  

"You know, you're gonna need work to pay for this.  I called out today, but maybe tomorrow you can come to Wilmington with me and Wally.  There's plenty of jobs at the shipyards."

Slappy grimaced and raised an eyebrow.  "For the Navy...?"

"Slaps, you have a girlfriend who's your soon-to-be fiancée and a kid.  You gotta support them somehow."

_No, duh._

"Maybe, all right?  I'll think about it." 

Zach watched his brother take his bag into his old room, another action Slappy instantly regretted.  Stine had given him the decently-sized guest room when he'd first come out of the book years ago, but now it just felt small and cramped to Slappy, almost as small as his and Wally's place.  And it needed an update. Badly. It looked like it was stuck in 1965. The carpet and wall were a drab brown. Slappy's eyes wandered upward to the various band posters on his wall. Those needed an update too: The Byrds, Gerry and The Pacemakers, The Beach Boys, The Grateful Dead, Jay & The Americans and of course, even though he wasn't obsessed with them like Hannah was, some Beatles posters from their teeny bopper days.  His gaze moved to the wall next to his bureau across from his bed and noticed that Stine had moved the old black and white TV into his room. 

Slappy set his bag down at the door, not bothering to unpack or undress and shower like he said he would, and sat down on the bed.  He'd been partying so much in France and England that he hadn't given thought to what returning to Madison would be like. In Europe, he was as free as a bird, but at home in the sleepy little town, he felt the damage that the war had done to him sinking in.  Was this normal? Or were most soldiers overjoyed to be home?  

Maybe it would feel better if he touched something.  On his nightstand, there was a picture of him and Mary-Ellen on a sunny summer day at the beach under an umbrella.  He picked it up and looked at the woman that soon would hopefully be his fiancée. She was in a white bikini, smiling, her hands clasped casually in her lap.  He was in his red swim trunks, his arms wrapped around his outstretched legs, one hand clasping an arm casually. The dummy managed a small smile. Simpler times.  

He put the picture down and saw a cassette tape with a note attached on his pillow.  He picked it up and saw that it was a B-side of Creedence Clearwater Revival's Fortunate Son.  He read the note.

"'Hey bud, welcome home!  Thought you'd like to listen to some relatable tunes now that you're home.  See ya soon! -Wally' Yeah. Can't wait to see you too, asshole," Slappy shook his head and put the cassette on his nightstand.  He looked up and saw his trademark gray suit with red bow tie hanging on the closet door. He figured Stine had hung it there, ready to go for him.  He sighed and shook his head. He'd been wearing nothing but suits since he left the hospital and before then, it was fatigues. He just wanted to slip into a white t-shirt and jeans.  He reclined on his bed and went to sleep. He was still tired and it was all he could think to do.

He woke up around 10, confused that he had remained unbothered in his sleep.  He was still in his uniform and with his dress shoes on, it was an uncomfortable thing to sleep in.  He rubbed his eyes and got up and went downstairs.

"SURPRIIIIISE!!!"

Slappy jumped and looked up, expecting an enemy soldier for some reason, but instead saw his family smiling under a banner that said "SURPRISE!" with a cake on the dining room table.  He blushed and smiled. 

"Welcome home, man!!" Wally ran up and hugged him tightly.  Slappy smiled.

"Good to see ya, man!"

Hannah was next.  She smiled and hugged her brother.  "Welcome home, Slappy."

Slappy's heart melted; it had never felt so good to see Hannah before.  "Good to see you again, sis."

The front door opened and Zach came in with Gale.  "Sorry we're late, gang!"

Gale smiled.  "Oh Slappy, you don't look a day over 25!" 

Slappy chuckled and smiled and hugged her.  "How are ya, Mrs. Cooper?" 

Everyone moved aside and Stine stepped forward, half-smiling proudly.  Slappy gulped and looked up at his father. For the first time ever, he was worried and intimidated by the taller man's presence.  Would he approve of him? Was he proud of him? They'd spoken on the phone, but had never had the pride conversation except through writing. 

Slappy extended his hand.  The older man took it at first and they shook, but both gave up trying to hold in their tears and embraced, crying.  Slappy never thought he'd let this thought enter his mind, but he was glad to see his father. He thanked God he was alive to hug him right now. 

"I missed you..." Stine sobbed.

"Missed you too, Papa..."

Stine smiled and moved off to the side.  The last person to be revealed to him was his lover.  Mary-Ellen stood before him and she'd gotten with the times, wearing a t-shirt and bell bottoms and changed her blonde hair; it was no longer curly.  Instead, it was shoulder-length and wavy. Slappy's breath caught in his throat. She was beautiful. If there were ever a time to pop the question, it would be now. 

The doll held another, tinier doll:  his daughter. Mary-Ellen smiled and placed the tiny doll on the ground.  She had grown since Slappy had last seen her; she was able to stand on her own two feet.  Slappy smiled widely at Mary-Ellen, who nodded eagerly. The dummy knelt to the ground and held out his arms for her to walk to him.  The little doll girl reached toward her father and took a few steps, smiling and giggling. Slappy watched in awe; his little girl was walking.  Annabelle went too fast and fell face down, giggling. Her father laughed and scooped her into his arms, giving her a big hug. He opened his eyes again and looked at Mary-Ellen, standing up and looking at her confidently, holding their daughter's hand.  He felt the ring in his pocket and was nervous again, but looked at Stine and nodded. The older man nodded as well, getting the message and taking the little doll girl in his arms. Slappy confidently approached Mary-Ellen and stood in front of her for a few minutes.  His wooden heart was pounding and about to burst through his chest.  

Even though no glowing green was visible, Mary-Ellen could tell her boyfriend was sweating.  Her plastic heart lept; he wasn't just walking up to her. He was about to do something big, something he'd never done in his life.  And sure enough, he pulled out the ring box and got down on one knee. Hannah screamed with delight and covered her mouth as Zach smiled and hugged her.  Wally laughed and slow clapped. Mary-Ellen put her hands over her mouth and started to cry as her boyfriend held the ring up to her.

"Will you marry me?" he smiled.

"Yes!!!!!!"

Slappy smiled widely and placed the ring on her finger and stood up and kissed her as everyone clapped and cheered.  Wally and Zach shook his hand hard.

"Congratulations, man!!"

Hannah hugged Mary-Ellen tightly.  "I have a sister!!" as Slappy smiled and they kissed again.  Annabelle reached up.

"Mama, Papa, stop kissing!!  Yuck!!"

 Everyone laughed as Slappy picked the little doll up and put her on his shoulders.  Stine got an idea.

"Slappy, I know you just got in, but why don't I take the kid for the night so you can two can have some...alone time?  Mary-Ellen, I'm sure you need a break." 

Slappy waggled his eyes at Mary-Ellen, who giggled.  "Thanks, Papa. We'd love that."

That night, Slappy changed out of his greens for the last time and not into his traditional suit, but into a black suit with a purple tie and the couple went to dinner at Drusilla's.  Sitting across from each other lit only by a candle, Mary-Ellen ate spaghetti and meatballs, while Slappy ate chicken Parmesan. The doll eyed her wooden fiancé; both of them remembered their last dinner together in Tokyo.  Is that why he was so quiet? She decided to find out.

"Are you okay?"

"Huh?  Oh yeah, I'm fine."

She smirked.  "You're not regretting proposing to your old ball and chain, are you?" she teased.

Slappy laughed.  "No. No, I'm glad I did that.  It's just...I waited so long to get home and now I'm here and...well..."

"It's weird."

"Exactly.  Like coming out of the book, but...worse."

She nodded.  "It's going to be," she took his hand and smiled. "But I'll be here for you."

He smiled.  Mary-Ellen changed the subject.

"Oh my gosh, we're getting married!!!" she squealed and kissed his cheek. "So what do you want for the wedding??"

"Whatever you want, baby.  You're the expert on those things," he took a bite of chicken Parm. "Papa will want a Jewish wedding, though.  He'll kill himself if we don't have one."

She raised her eyebrows nodding.  "That's true...but gosh, we have so much to figure out!  Color schemes, venue, guests..."

Slappy started to sweat.  Why did engaged women always do this?  "Why don't we just get married at the synagogue?"

Mary-Ellen's smile faded.  "Oh...oh right...I'm sorry, honey..."

Slappy saw her hurt.  "Sorry babe, it's just my first day back and everything..."

Mary-Ellen smiled again.  "I understand, I'm sorry."

Slappy smiled and kissed her.  "We're already acting like a married couple!"

She giggled.  After dinner, they got back in the Mark III.  Slappy put his arm around Mary-Ellen and she rested her head on his shoulder as he drove home.  It was good to be behind the wheel of the Haunted Car again. At least, Slappy figured, it was a hell of a lot easier to drive than a clunky tank.  

They pulled into the driveway of the big house and noticed that all the lights were out.

"Everyone must be asleep...it's only nine..." Slappy mused.  They went inside and she went into his room. He watched, clearing his throat.  Why was he so nervous? He loved sex and usually couldn't wait to do it. First day home jitters?

The dummy followed the doll into his room and closed the door.  She turned and wrapped her arms around him and they kissed deeply.

"I'm so glad you're here and away from all those European girls, finally," she sighed relieved, making Slappy chuckle.  "Is it true they don't shave?"

"I wouldn't know, I wasn't looking in that area," he said matter-of-factly.  Mary-Ellen smiled; he'd been a good boy.

"So where you been sleeping while I've been away?"

"Here..." she moved toward the bed, him following her.  "It smells like you. And your Batman sheets."

"Only on laundry days."

She giggled and they kissed again, slower, deeper and more passionate this time as he leaned her back so her head was on the pillows.  Slappy broke the kiss and looked at her.

"Did ya miss me?"

Mary-Ellen smiled.  "So much."

They resumed kissing as she undid his tie and slid off his suit.  Slappy felt bad thoughts creeping into his head and moved onto kissing her neck.  It helped; her breathy sighs echoed in his ear and made him hard. He looked at her lips again.

"I missed you too," and kissed her again.  He lifted off her shirt and caressed her body.

"I'm sorry, I still don't have boobs..."

"I don't care."

She broke the kiss and looked at him in shock.  He always whined that she didn't have breasts like a human woman.  "Really?"

"Mary-Ellen, I nearly died every day for three years.  You learn to appreciate things."

She smiled and nodded and was taken aback by his passionate kiss.  He wasn't letting war flashbacks get in the way of him and his woman, especially not his first night home.

As they kissed, Slappy opened the nightstand drawer where he remembered his condoms were.  

"Mmm...what are you doing?"

"Looking for...condoms..."

She giggled. "I'm on the pill now."

He broke the kiss and looked at her. "What?"

"Hannah told me about it after I gave birth to Annabelle.  Guaranteed no baby unless I go off it when we want one!"

"Wow...they can do that?"

"I told you things were changing here."

"So I'm learning."

She took her pill and they kissed again as he entered her.  All the flashbacks and negative thoughts went away as he made love to his fiancée.  Their breath intermingled as they kissed and took off the rest of their clothes, kissing breathlessly.  The light was out now; the only light came from the glow of the moon. Slappy kissed her hard to stifle her moans in the full house. 

Afterwards, she lay on his chest, stroking his new abs.  He looked down at her to see she was admiring her ring.

"Do you like it?"

"Oh Slappy, I do...I'm actually shocked I have one!"

Slappy laughed. "What, you didn't think I'd put a ring on your finger?"    

"I didn't think you'd want to be tied down to one woman for the rest of your life."

"Life's too short.  God knows I learned that lesson."

"...Slappy, we're technically immortal."

"No one is immortal."

She giggled. "Okay, Timothy Leary."

They both chuckled and he shifted his body in the bed and his face was in her hair.

"I love you, fiancée." She felt his smile in her hair.

"I love you too...fiancé."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact I found during my research: $1,871 in 1973 had the same purchasing power as $11,060.16 today. Slappy really DID get a steal! Lol, hope everyone is enjoying still. :)


	22. Champ's Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slappy informs Champ's parents and Taylor of his death and the funeral is held.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Radio codes are too complicated for a civilian loser like me to explain, so here's a site with a decent explanation of how they were used in Vietnam: http://grunt-redux.atspace.eu/mike2_us2.htm
> 
> If anyone has any tips on how to write PTSD, please let me know! Otherwise, I hope this portrayal is accurate. Hope everyone is still enjoying! Thank you for the kudos on the last chapter!
> 
> The "Tet thing" Slappy refers to is the Tet Offensive. This is probably obvious, but I wanted to add a note clarifying since it isn't referred to by its full name.
> 
> Slang:
> 
> What's the buzz? = What's going on? What's happening?
> 
> TW for a rape mention.
> 
> AN: like I said in the last chapter, I’m trying to pound as much as I can into one chapter because, as much as I enjoyed writing this fic, I want to move on and get started on Grand Theft Auto IV fics. Sorry this chapter is so long!!

The next morning was cold and gray, but bright.  The light of the clouds shone through the open window on the couple made of wood and plastic cuddled up together under the covers.  Slappy held Mary-Ellen close to his body, spooning her. Normally, Slappy hated when her hair was in his face when he slept, but last night, it had felt so good to smell it and feel it in his face again.  He also normally didn't like it when Mary-Ellen woke him up in the wee hours of the morning to make love. He wanted and needed his sleep, especially after getting almost next to no sleep for three and a half years, but last night, she'd woken him up twice in the middle of the night to make love and he was grateful.  He needed warmth and he needed her.

Slappy shifted his body in sleep so he was feeling all of her against his wooden self, causing Mary-Ellen to smile slightly. 

"Good morning," she whispered.

"Morning," was his response as he kissed her back twice softly.  All of sudden, a yell of "WELCOME HOME, DUMMY!!!" came from outside and the glass of the window shattered as a big rock zoomed through, almost hitting Mary-Ellen.  She was a tough doll; she checked herself quickly and was fine, but looked over at her fiancé, for the minute the glass shattered, Slappy let out a bloodcurdling, anguished scream and covered his ears.

"FOXHOUND SIX, THIS IS ALPHA MIKE!  WE HAVE MANY MANY CHARLIES IN THE OPEN, FIRE MISSION, OVER!" Mary-Ellen looked over to see her wooden fiancé hanging over the side of the bed with his ears covered and shouting at the top of his lungs.

"LIMA BRAVO FOUR, DO YOU READ ME???  LIMA BRAVO FOUR, THIS IS ALPHA MIKE! WE GOT CHARLIES COMING IN FROM ALL DIRECTIONS!!!  JAYHAWK. I AM POPPING SMOKE!!!!" 

In Stine and Lorraine's bedroom, the married older couple woke up with a start.

"Slappy!!!" Stine exclaimed.  He looked at Lorraine. The blonde woman was sitting up in bed frozen, her eyes wide.

"Lorraine?  Are...you okay?"

"I know what that yelling is..." she said gravely.  Stine's eyes widened; his wife knew the signs of a damaged combat vet, but his own son?  It couldn't be...he was so strong and resilient... 

Lorraine hurriedly put a robe on and joined everyone else running into Slappy's room.  Mary-Ellen had succeeded in getting the puppet to calm down. He was panting as she held his wrists.  Lorraine knelt beside him.

"Slappy!  Slappy, it's okay, you're home in Madison..." she cupped his cheek. "It's okay..."  The puppet looked at her with huge eyes, panting and gulping, looking around at everyone looking at him concerned.  Stine broke the silence.

"Slappy, I...was gonna make pancakes, your favorite!  Want some?"

Slappy's eyes still warily traveled between the humans and the doll looking at him.  He gulped and nodded.

"Yeah...yeah..." his voice was hoarse and he was sweating.

Later at the breakfast table, everyone ate pancakes and eggs in silence.  Slappy stared at his food and picked at it. Truth be told, he wasn't hungry.  And judging by the silence and stares at the table, he'd done something wrong either last night or this morning.  Mary-Ellen took his hand under the table and smiled at him, so whatever it was, it can't have been that bad, so he decided to crack a joke.  Or that is, he did until Stine broke the silence.

"Slappy, do you...know what happened upstairs?"

"N...no..." he really didn't.  He stared at his food, but then decided to make the joke.  "Did I destroy the town again?" Bad timing. Everyone remained silent.  Slappy stared back down again, but luckily, his father chuckled, but frowned again immediately after.

"No, you...Slappy, you started shouting out radio codes..."

Slappy's eyes widened and his mouth silently formed a silent "oh."  He was hoping no one would find out about those.

"Slappy, if you need to talk to someone--"

"Pass the maple syrup, Hannah?  Please?" Slappy extended his hand towards his sister, who looked up warily and sighed, passing her brother the bottle of Aunt Jemima.  Everyone watched Slappy proceed to lather his pancakes in maple syrup. Everyone who was anyone knew Slappy loved maple syrup, but his family knew him better.  Stine started to speak, but decided to drop it.

After breakfast, everybody went to work and Stine went to his study to write.  Slappy had planned to come and look for work with Zach and Wally, but after learning what he had done that morning, he was too embarrassed and begged off; he needed at least a day or two to bang around the house and his brother's apartment and get used to home again.  And get these damned flashbacks out of his head, though he didn't use that as a reason out loud.  

Slappy sat at the kitchen table in a white t-shirt that was being wasted because Mary-Ellen wasn't home to admire his new muscles that the shirt pronounced, looking over a list of choices for wedding food that Mary-Ellen had given him while Lorraine did dishes.  He sighed, looking for a distraction; he loved Mary-Ellen and wanted to get hitched, but a wedding was the last thing on his mind. Luckily, Lorraine let out an exasperated sigh, causing Slappy to look up.

"I have so much shit to do today..."  Lorraine sighed and continued cleaning dishes.  Slappy smiled; Lorraine never swore unless she meant it.

"Didn't you say you had groceries to get?"

"Yeah, that and I have to do laundry and I have a shift at the VFA at 4."

"I can do the grocery shopping..."  The puppet got up and walked over to her.

She looked at him, stunned.  Slappy usually hated when Stine gave him chores.  "Slappy, you don't have to--"

"I want to.  I just...I just need to get out of the house."

Lorraine looked at him with big eyes and sighed, nodding.  She handed him a list. "Here's everything we need. Feel free to get whatever you want too now that you're home.  And make sure you--"

"Ask if I need help reaching anything.  I know," Slappy rolled his eyes. Lorraine nodded and smiled wistfully.

"Good luck," she smirked, trying to lighten the mood.  Slappy smirked too.

"Gee, thanks," he grabbed his keys and left as Lorraine laughed.

* * *

Slappy thought the second day back would be better, but driving through Madison in the daylight just made him feel numb.  The sun peeking through the trees reminded him of how the sun used to peek through the palm trees during early morning patrols in Vietnam.

He somehow made it to Wayfield without having a panic attack.  He pulled into a parking space a ways from the store and turned off the car and rested his head against the seat.  He was going to go into public for the first time since he got home and really, the first time since the incident. He knew this, but he still wasn't sure why he was so nervous to go fucking grocery shopping, so, taking a deep breath, he got out of the car and locked it and made his way to the store.  Grabbing one of the kids' carriages from the carriage rack, he felt the stares from the middle-aged soccer moms that usually populated Wayfield at 11 in the morning. Slappy tried to think positive and figured they weren't used to seeing a man doing the grocery shopping; Madison was stuck in the 50s.

He looked at the list once he got inside.  Milk. He exhaled and went over to the dairy aisle and found the whole milk.  As he was putting the milk in his carriage, a tall young man ran up to him.

"Hey Slappy!"

Slappy looked up and instantly recognized the boy that Taylor had been with when Champ had defeated Will Blake in his werewolf form, now a young man with long wavy hair.  He smiled and the two men shook hands.

"How you doing, Seth?"

"Great, far out.  I heard you were back.  I just got back too."

Slappy raised his eyebrows.  "You were over in Nam too?"

Seth nodded proudly.  "Two tours with the Navy in '68 and '71."

"You did that whole Tet thing?"

Seth nodded again, this time somberly.  "That was hell. North Vietnam and Laos were a breeze compared to that."

"Damn.  Sorry to hear that, brother," he kind of just wanted to be alone now.

Seth sensed that the dummy wasn't himself.  He fully knew why.

"Hey...I get them too."

Slappy looked up.  "What?"

"The flashbacks.  I get them too."

Slappy sighed and looked down into his carriage.

"I don't want to talk to anyone about it.  Don't need quacks in my head. But if you ever wanna talk, I'm home for good now."

"So am I.  I appreciate that, man."  The two men shook hands and Seth walked away. 

Slappy got the rest of the groceries needed (along with some bottles of Coke for himself) and got in line to check out.  After a few other customers, it was finally his turn. He got to the cashier and his heart both leaped and sank when he saw who it was.

"Hey Slappy!"  Taylor smiled excitedly.  She, like Hannah, was no longer a teenager, but a beautiful young woman. 

Slappy managed a small smile.  "Hey Taylor, what's the buzz?"

"Oh, not much, just waiting for Champ to get home..."

 _There it is._   "Yeah..."

Taylor noticed the uneasiness on the puppet's face.  "But it's groovy to see you, though!"

"It's good to see you too, Taylor.  Uh...when do you get off work?"

Taylor giggled and blushed.  "Slappyyyyy, what about Mary-Ellen?"

"No, it's not that.  It's just, I have something to tell you and Champ's parents."

The blonde's giggly demeanor faded and her face was replaced by clouds.  "Oh...I'm...I'm off at four..."

Slappy took a deep breath.  "Okay, I'll...see you then. Uh...how much do I owe you?" He got out his wallet.

"Huh?  Oh...$20."

He handed her a $20 bill.

"Do you need the receipt?"

He shook his head silently.  Taylor closed the cash register drawer.  "I'll see you later, Slappy...glad you're home."

The dummy nodded slightly and took the groceries out to the Haunted Car. 

* * *

"Slaps, are you _sure_ you don't want me to come with you?"

"Zach, they need to hear this from me and only me."

Slappy, Zach and Wally were in the garage of the big house watching Wally work on his car.  Slappy was in those damned greens again; it'd be the last bit of "official Army business" until the funeral.  Wally pulled back out on the scooter board from under the car and looked up at his brother.

"They hate you, you know that, right?"

"Thanks, Wally."

"I mean, it's true.  Everyone in town except them turned up to watch the viewing party for you getting your medal."

"Yeah, Papa told me..."

"Just choose your words carefully," Zach advised. "Champ probably did something stupid that got him killed, but don't tell them that.  Just hand them the telegram and let them sort it out."

Slappy nodded, but stayed rooted to the spot.

"...So are you gonna go?" Wally eyed him.

"I am, I just gotta...mentally prepare myself."

Zach laughed.  "Slappy, this is how you 'prepare' when you go ask Dad to release the Haunted Car for you!"

"No, this is that, but 10 times worse."

"Hey look on the bright side," Wally clapped him on the shoulder. "Maybe Taylor will fuck you because she's sad."

"I just got engaged!"

Wally laughed.  "That'd never stop me!"

"Trust me, Wally, we know it wouldn't." Slappy got up.  "Anyways, I'm goin' over there."

"Good luck, man," Zach said.

Champ's parents lived a few blocks down from Stine.  It was 4:30 when Slappy left Stine's; he wanted to give Taylor some time to get off work and get to the house, but he was sure they didn't want to be kept waiting any longer.  Taylor had probably told them he was coming and they were probably on pins and needles waiting for him as it was.

He stood in front of the plain white house.  He could reach the doorbell. That wouldn't be the problem even if he couldn't, though.  This was more nerve-wracking than telling Scooter's family had been.

The puppet took a deep breath, mustered up the courage and rang the doorbell.  Inside, Champ's father started to get up, but Taylor held up her hand.

"I'll get it, Mr. Davis."  The blonde woman got up and answered the door.

"Hey Taylor."

"Hi," she whispered, bending down.  "I warmed them up as best I could, but...they still have pre-conceived notions of you, so..." she shrugged. "I did what I could."

Slappy nodded.  "Thanks, I appreciate it."  Taylor let him in before following behind him, closing the door.  He took a deep breath and greeted Champ's parents as Taylor sat down on the couch next to Champ's mother.

"Mr. and Mrs. Davis," he nodded and extended his hand.  They just stared at him coldly, making him put his hand away slowly.

"What more could you possibly do to us, boy?" Champ's father spoke in a sinister voice.  Slappy's heart broke. He saw that one coming.

"Sir..." His mouth tried to form words, but couldn't find the right ones.  He was hoping Champ's mother would be more sympathetic, but the older bespectacled brunette lady just stared at him just as coldly as Mr. Davis did.  Slappy wanted to just hand them the telegram and leave, but he felt like he should say something beforehand. He cleared his throat.

"Mr. and Mrs. Davis, I...deeply apologize for the events of five years ago," he began.  Champ's parents looked at each other, stunned at how formal the dummy was. A bit of confidence grew in Slappy.  "Uh...I'm here concerning...it's about Champ. Um..."

He pulled out the telegram and handed it to them and stood back, hoping for the worst.  Champ's father took it cautiously, eyeing the dummy and reading it. His face grew paler as he read and he fell back down into his easy chair.  Champ's mother looked over and read it and put a hand over her mouth. The patriarch looked up at the dummy with an evil scowl on his face.

"You had something to do with this," the human man sneered at the puppet in the same sinister voice.

He was prepared.  "Sir, I had nothing to do with this, it was all the Charlie's doing."

Mrs. Davis let out a piercing wail that broke Slappy's heart.  Mr. Davis put an arm around her and used a soft voice that Slappy didn't know he was capable of; he'd only ever heard him yell or raise his voice.

"Mary..." he consoled her and hugged her.  It was no use; Mary's sobs were hysterical as she rocked back and forth in the fetal position, Taylor gripping her, sobbing into her shoulder equally as hard.

"Chaaaaaaaaaamp!!!!!  Chaaaaaaaaaaaamp!!!!!!!  Oh my Goddddddddddddd...." She went through tissue after tissue, but she was never able to blot her eyes with them as she tore them up upon them being handed to her.  Slappy just stood rooted to the spot, hurt for the woman in his own eyes. He'd done this once before, but he learned it didn't get any easier. He wanted to reach out and console her like he had tried to do to Hanh's and Friday's mother, but he feared Mary would snap at him the same way as the Vietnamese woman did.  At the risk of making things worse, he decided to give them some background.

"He...he found me.  Well, shot at me because he thought I was a Charlie.  And um....we just...spent the day together, you know? We even fought some Charlies together," he sniffed back a tear and tried to smile at his lame attempt at a joke.  Why was he crying? He and Champ were never close friends. He guessed what they said about war was true: your worst enemy became your best friend.

Mr. Davis finally looked up at him with the softest look he'd ever given him.  Slappy figured that he was too hurt to hate him. The older human man rose and towered over Slappy.  The two men stared into each other's eyes, almost unblinking. A slight smile came upon Mr. Davis' face as he extended his hand.  The same type of smile came upon Slappy's face as he took his hand, shaking it.

"Maybe you're not such a bad kid after all."

Slappy managed an embarrassed chuckle and looked at the ground.

"Slappy...thank you," Mary stood up as well.

"Oh...don't mention it.  Mr. Davis, uh..."

"Call me Harold, son."

"Harold.  Uh...the Army informed me, sir, that the casket's on its way back here.  It'll be here on Friday morning. I'll be in Philadelphia with the guard to welcome it in."

Champ's parents looked at each other and nodded.

"We'll have the wake Friday night then and the funeral Saturday.  Slappy..." Harold hesitated. "we'd consider it an honor if you came to the wake and gave a eulogy at the funeral."

 _Two seconds ago, you both hated me and now you want me to give your son's eulogy??  Humans are strange._ "An...an honor?  A eulogy...?"

Harold nodded.  "You were the last one my boy saw before he died.  It's only fitting."  

Slappy thought for a moment and decided the older human was sincere.  He nodded confidently. "It would be my pleasure."

Friday morning came and Slappy left early to get to Philadelphia, where he met members of the guard to greet Champ's casket at the airport.  He wasn't related to Champ by blood, but it felt like he was since Champ was Zach and Hannah's best friend. He had had some good times with the kid, before and after the incident.  There was the day they'd reconnected, of course. But back in Madison before the war, once Stine had let him out of the book for the second time and they'd gotten over the differences that the incident had caused, the three boys, Zach, Slappy and Champ, had soon become fast friends.  Their crew even included Wally and Seth sometimes. But now it was just them two, Zach and Slappy. It didn't help that Lorraine had pictures of the three of them all around the house among the other family photos.

He waited, in full guard uniform, with the other service members.  It felt like an eternity, but it was really only 30 minutes before the plane that was carrying Champ's body landed.  Slappy had seen plenty of dead bodies in the past four years and the body he was about to see would be draped with an American flag, but he shuddered to think about how mutilated and degraded Champ's body was after being in the ground for so long thanks to him.  When the body came out, he saluted like everyone else, but he was the only one trying to hold back tears.

After the presentation, the captain approached Slappy.  "Stine, my superiors said you'd want the body turned over to you."

"I wouldn't use that terminology, but...yes, I um...want to take it back to his parents.  They're planning a wake and a funeral service."

The captain nodded.  "I entrust it to you, then.  Thank you both for your service and give his parents the Army's condolences."

The men saluted each other and the officers helped Slappy load the casket into the trunk of the Haunted Car.  They all left and Slappy patted the passenger side door.

"Now you're really a haunted car, girl!"

Usually while driving, Slappy had the radio onto some Beach Boys or Stealers Wheel or CCR, but with the casket in the car, he wasn't in a musical mood.  He felt bad because driving around with a dead body in his car made him feel cool, a bit like Oddjob in that scene from _Goldfinger_ .  But the hour and a half drive home in silence, coupled with the usual mid-afternoon tri-state traffic allowed him to be alone with his thoughts.  He was bringing the casket containing the body of one of his good friends to not only his parents, but his best friends as well. The irony of this was not lost on him.  Hell, the irony of the past four years wasn't lost on him. For so long, he thought it would always be _he_ who would be doing the enslaving and killing.  Maybe not killing, but...seriously injuring. But after four years, the urge to hurt, torture and enslave was long gone.  It better be, he was carrying one of his dead best friends in the trunk of his car.  

Eventually, he reached Madison and parked in front of the funeral home.  Harold met him there and he along with Mr. Mason, the funeral home director, helped the dummy move the casket into the viewing area.

"Now normally, we reveal the body for the wake, but...from what Slappy tells me, it's been in the ground for quite a while, so it's up to you if you'd like the body revealed or not, Mr. Davis."

Harold thought for a while before looking at Slappy.  "What do you think, Slappy?"

The dummy raised his eyebrows, appalled.  For the first time in a long time, he said exactly what he was thinking in the exact tone of voice he was thinking it in. 

"He's your kid, why are you asking me?"

"You were the last man to see him alive.  I fought in the second World War, son. I know what it's like to lose a buddy."

Slappy sighed and let it go and addressed Mr. Mason.  "If it's okay with you, Mr. Mason, I'd like to keep him covered."

Mr. Mason nodded and took the casket back.  Harold turned and looked down at Slappy.

"The wake will be at 7 tonight.  We'd appreciate it if you could come.  And I heard you're recently engaged! Feel free to bring her too."

Slappy nodded, still in awe that just the other day, the man in front of him had wanted to strangle the life out of him.  "Thank you, sir."

That night, Slappy dressed in a sleek black suit and tie that he regretted deeply once Mary-Ellen started gushing over how handsome he looked.  But he had to admit that she looked beautiful in her black dress. He just wished it was under better circumstances.

He also wished he could spend the wake figuring out what he was going to say in the eulogy the next day, but people kept approaching him, thanking him for his service, congratulating him for his medal and thanking him for being such a good friend to Champ.  He knew he couldn't have alcohol at a formal function, but why couldn't there at least be some champagne to deal with these people?

Slappy mostly stayed chatting with Zach and Wally.  Afterwards, everyone met at Drusilla's for dinner. That night in bed, Slappy and Mary-Ellen were both too depressed for sex, a rarity for them, and Slappy entered into a fitful sleep.  The day Champ died kept playing over and over in his mind. Instead of a bullet through the hip, Champ was dying in a multitude of other ways: being shot in the head, heart, eyes, everywhere.  And the minute Slappy turned to save him, the soldier that had killed Champ killed him. He ended up not getting a lick of sleep that night, staring at the ceiling with half of his brain flashbacks and half of his brain trying to figure out what he was going to say in the eulogy.

At one point in the night, Mary-Ellen felt him shaking and turned over, touching his arm gently, but she pulled back immediately once she felt him jump.

"Darling, are you all right?"

Slappy's head darted from side to side, his eyes wide, readjusting to his surroundings.  He caught sight of Mary-Ellen and calmed down.

"I...I'm fine..."

But Mary-Ellen knew better. "Slappy, you were shaking."

He sighed and turned to face her.  "I just have no idea what I'm gonna say tomorrow, I mean...I went from almost killing the kid to...still inadvertently getting him killed."

Mary-Ellen sighed. "Slappy, it wasn't your fault.  You know that."

"You don't get it, Mary-Ellen.  When you're at war and your buddy goes down, you _feel_ like it's your fault, whether it was or not." 

Mary-Ellen looked down; she didn't feel it was her place to argue with a man who'd seen war, so she tried another approach.  She looked at him, smirking.

"Well, I know something that _is_ your fault..."

He looked at her, raising his eyebrows, dreading what could potentially come. "What's that?"

"Bein' so darn cute!" she giggled close to his mouth and he smiled as they kissed.  About three minutes into the make out session, Slappy saw the North Vietnamese soldier raping the South Vietnamese woman again and pulled back abruptly.

"What's wrong?" Mary-Ellen caressed his chest.

"Uh...nothing, I, um...I'm just tired.  I'm gonna go to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow." And with that, he turned over on his side and went to sleep, leaving Mary-Ellen confused.

To hide the fact that he got almost no sleep, Slappy wore the sunglasses he'd found at the police station the night of the incident to the funeral.  He hated wearing them because of all the reminders, but he didn't have any other pairs. He didn't know if he was allowed to wear sunglasses with his greens, but he was out of the Army, so he figured it didn't matter.  He didn't even know why he was wearing his greens again; he had been so excited not to wear them anymore, but getting dressed for the funeral, he felt he should wear them to honor a fallen soldier.     

They arrived at the funeral home and Slappy greeted Harold, who introduced him to more of Champ's relatives.  10:00 came and everyone gathered in the funeral home, where the priest said a few words and they all prayed the Our Father.  Slappy, Zach and the rest of the pallbearers helped load the casket into the hearse and everyone made their way to the little church.  Hannah shed a tear, partly for her friend and partly because the place where she and Zach had gotten married was now an unhappy place.

Mary-Ellen eyed Slappy during the service.  He didn't cry, though she could tell he was holding it in.  He just stared at the priest with a sad look in his eyes, not blinking, as if he were asleep.  Finally, the priest called him up to deliver the eulogy. Slappy took a deep breath and approached the ambo.  He stepped onto the footstool and looked out over the sea of faces. He took a deep breath and began, knowing it was painfully obvious to them that he had no speech prepared.

"Uh...I don't have much to say.  I'll just say that, uh...in the day we spent together..."

Some boys in one of the corner pews at the back of the church wolf-whistled, but their mothers quickly silenced them with a sharp elbow.  Slappy ignored the distraction and continued.

"Uh...well...in the day we spent together, I got to know the kid more than I ever have," Slappy nodded, looking off to the side.  "He was a good kid. Hell of a soldier. Actually, he held his own better than I thought what he would," he gave a slight chuckle and smiled;  "Uh...you know, in a way I feel responsible for his death. I just keep thinking that if I hadn't..." he hesitated, seeing the faces almost knowing what he was about to bring up. "...met him, he would still be alive." He wiped a tear from his eye before he continued. "If I hadn't met him, then I wouldn't have met him again and he'd still be alive."

Another pause.

"I didn't do enough.  And everyone's been telling me that there's nothing I could've done, you've never been to war.  You don't know the guilt that comes with seeing your buddy fall," he paused before sighing and shaking his head. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be mad, I just..."

Everyone stared at him with looks of sympathy as he wiped another tear from his eye.

"Anyway, he was a good kid and a good soldier.  That's...all I have to say, thank you."

The church was in silence as the dummy made his way back to his seat in a trance.  He tried to keep his eyes straight ahead on the altar, but he could feel the stares burning into the wood on his neck.  He spent the rest of the service and the bereavement luncheon in a sort of out-of-body experience. He wondered if that was the soul doing that or his grief.  After the casket was lowered into the ground and everyone left, he stood in front of the grave and saluted.

"Miss you, buddy," he said quietly.

The dummy lowered his arm and stared at the grave sadly for a few minutes.  It was just then that he remembered Champ's favorite song that they used to sing all the time:  Spirit in the Sky by Norman Greenbaum. He managed a chuckle when he remembered how Champ used to start singing it randomly and how much it pissed Slappy and Zach off, but now, he was remembering it fondly.  Champ and Slappy had sung it on the day in Vietnam that they saw each other and did their own patrol. He quietly sang a few bars of the chorus.

_"When they lay me down to dieee,_

_Goin' uup to the spiirit in the skyyy._

_Ohhhh goin' up to the spiiirit in the skyyyy,_

_That's where I'm gonna goo when I dieee._

_When I die and they lay me to rest_

_I'm gonna go to the plaace that's the beest..."_

The puppet stopped singing and sighed.  

"I hope you're goin' to the best place, kid.  Cause I sure as hell ain't." And with that, he walked away.

A small reception was held at the Stine household after the main luncheon, but Slappy came home and went right upstairs to his room, changed out of his greens into a white t-shirt, keeping his slacks on and sat at his desk and stared into his mirror.  He should know this by now, but he didn't see his old self looking back at him. His eyes were big and sad and not evil at all. He hated that he was a shell, but at the same time, not being evil anymore was...a welcome change, he found. 

He was lost in his own thoughts when he heard a small knock on his door.  He saw Hannah's head poking in the doorway through the mirror. He didn't say anything to her, so she figured it was okay to come in.  She quietly approached him wearing a simple black dress. Slappy felt weird for thinking it, but his sister was a very beautiful woman.  Zach was lucky.

"Slappy?" she said quietly, kneeling next to him.  "I want you to know that it wasn't your fault..." he heard her sniff and saw her wipe her tears with her arm, the same way she had on the night before he left for Vietnam.  He looked away from the mirror for the first time all night; he was ready to tell her a story he hadn't told anyone.

"When I was...my third day of patrols in Nam, we were...walking on the path we always walked.  It was around noon and uh...it was hot, sis. I mean hotter than summers get here. I mean, I was beat.  So we were walking and then we came to this village. There were only a few little huts so they were dirt poor, ya know?  And uh...we were just gonna go past it when BAM!" he clapped his hands, making Hannah jump. "bomb hit. So we all take hiding positions and start shooting, right?  And while it's all going on, I'm behind a hut, right? And I saw a woman. And she was holding a baby. Kid was tiny, almost the size of my finger." He pinched his fingers together to show her. "She was covering him up, but...she was crying.  I finished shooting and took cover to reload and looked at her and noticed...she was bleeding. Bad. Like gushing. So ya know, I don't speak Vietnamese so I kind of pushed her back a little." 

Here, he paused and wiped tears away from his eye.

"And um...her entire stomach was covered in blood.  She was bleeding out of her intestines. I mean, I don't know if she was shot or...she shot herself.  But it was bad. And then the baby was all covered in blood too. I figured it was just from her bleeding, but...she leaned backward and..."

Hannah listened intently, gulping to show her fear of what her wooden brother was about to say next.  

"The baby was covered too.  Both of its eyes poked out, you know?  Two little black sockets. I wanted to ask who did this to them, but...then I realized:  she did it to herself." The dummy looked at his sister and started to cry. "She killed her kid so he wouldn't have to see war.  Shit, I'd kill my kid too if she had to see that bullshit." He sniffed and cried harder. "But I just kept thinking about Annabelle...shit, she wasn't even conceived at that point and I still thought about her.  What if that was her? What if...I was that mother?"

He curled himself into the fetal position and cried.  Hannah was sobbing now too, hugging her wooden brother tightly. 

"You shouldn't have had to see that..." she said softly, holding him.

"I needed to see it."

"Why...?"

"Because Papa needed me to.  And I needed myself to."

"Slappy, you can't beat yourself up for these things.  Everyone has forgiven you.  You need to forgive yourself."

Hannah gave her brother a kiss on the cheek. "Now come on.  If you need motivation, there's alcohol downstairs."

Slappy chuckled and followed his sister downstairs, putting on his white button-down shirt, black tie and sport jacket.


End file.
